


Mr. Darcy 1.1

by romachebella



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-28 22:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 56,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15059033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romachebella/pseuds/romachebella
Summary: Jensen is 24, has a shiny college degree in graphic design and advertising, but good jobs are hard to come by when you don't want to move across the country - which explains why he's still living with his parents and juggling a couple  of his old students´ jobs to get by. It´s not ideal by far, but at least he's there for his family, can work on his secret project, and has all of his friends close by.But then the calm town life he's so accustomed to gets stirred by the arrival of one Mr. Misha Collins, heir to the one big company (and employer) in town; this man´s decisions will affect the lives of pretty much everyone around, after all. He's also single, attractive as hell, and charmingly enthusiastic. And then, there's the friend he tags along: a man who's as tall and hot as he seems haughty and arrogant. No wonder Jensen calls him GrumpyGiant, right? Especially after he´s been given a harsh brushoff at their very first encounter!Or: I might´ve read (and watched) "Pride and Prejudice" one too many times...





	1. Fresh Blood

**Author's Note:**

> This story vaguely follows the line of Jane Austen´s "Pride and Prejudice". I do hope she's not rotating in her grave; but Jared just seemed a perfect Mr. Darcy in my head.
> 
> The characters are all fictional, of course, I only borrowed all these nice peoples´ names and pretty faces!
> 
> A huge THANK YOU to thruterryseyes, my fabulous artist! You got the whole romance novel cover down perfectly...  
> She's practically a saint, as she also agreed to be my beta for this story! Terry, you're a BB life saver!  
> here's the link to her art: https://thruterryseyes.livejournal.com/53917.html
> 
> And, of course, kudos to everyone behind the Big Bang challenge... it´s something to look forward to each and every year, be it as a writer, an artist or a reader! Y´all rock!

[](http://de.tinypic.com?ref=adm0t3)

“Alan! Alan!”  
Uh-oh. Something was up. Jensen peeked around the corner to get a look at his mother who´d just run – (I did certainly NOT run, Jensen darling, a lady never runs. I was merely striding! he could practically hear his mom chiding him) – well, who´d just hastened toward the extension. (It´s a winter garden, Jensen!) where his father had been hiding all afternoon to ‘organize his books’. AKA watching the pre-game chatter on the crappy telly he´d sneaked down from Josh´s old room. The battered glass panel doors his dad had got from a junk yard about ten years ago, were now building a part of the walls of a much needed extra room, provided a perfect view and, given his mom´s excitement, also good enough auditive access to what was going on.  
Sure enough, he saw his old man hastily stuffing away the beer bottle he´d held in his lap, and scrambling up from the slightly threadbare overstuffed chair they´d inherited from grandpa when the old folks decided to sell their house and move into a tiny apartment at the “ Golden Years” retirement home. Jensen couldn´t help it, the name of the place made him roll his eyes. Each time. It was kind of a knee-jerk reaction.  
“Alan? ALAAAN! Oh, there you are, dear!”  
Jensen grinned. His father´s show of getting up from his knees in front of the impressive book shelf covering one entire wall of the extension (sorry, Mom; the WINTER GARDEN), dusting off his trousers with one hand while holding one of his heavier volumes in the other, a slightly irritated frown on his face, deserved an Oscar. Sometimes Jensen wondered how far his Dad would have come in Hollywood, had he ever decided to pursue his career as an actor after the few TV characters he´d played as a young man.  
“What is it, Donna? Is the house on fire?”  
“Of course not, silly.” His mom eyed the –admittedly quite baggy – trousers disapprovingly. “And I´m glad, cause if you had to leave the house in these pants I´d die from embarrassment. I´m pretty sure I threw this pair away at least half a year ago!”  
Jensen watched his father´s face turn an interesting shade of pink for a moment; but he stood his ground.  
“They are perfectly suitable to be worn at home, Donna. And that way, I spare the good pairs you have me wear when we´re going out!”  
Jensen´s Mom only rolled her eyes at that, and Jensen was pretty sure he heard her murmur something like, “Lord, give me patience...!”. He grinned. His parents, albeit married for almost 30 years now, could banter like that on a daily basis; but they were probably the perfect example for `teasing is a sign of affection´.  
“So, I wonder, if it´s not a fire, what else would make you burst in here, sweetheart? As you can see, I´m kinda busy and -”  
“Oh, jeez, Alan, your dusty old books won´t go anywhere. Guess who I just met at the grocery store!”  
Jensen´s father sighed inwardly.  
Jensen could tell from the way his eyebrows moved the tiniest bit.  
“Mr. Peanut in a top hat?”  
That got him a playful slap on his arm.  
“I´m serious, Alan! Mrs. Holloway.”  
Jensen frowned. The name sounded only vaguely familiar. His father was at a loss, too, if his face was anything to go by.  
“Who?”  
“For God´s sake, Alan! I could swear you never listen to a word I say!”  
Probably not too far from the truth, Jensen thought.  
“Mrs. Holloway, whose daughter Sharon works at Collins & Sheppard as a secretary! She went to High School with Josh, and for a while I hoped the two of them would hit it off, she´s such a sweet girl, you know, and such a respectable family, not at all like this Bingley girl he used to go out with, I can´t say I shed a tear when they broke up right before prom, I swear I´ve never met a blunter person than her mother in my life! Downright rude! And she never even brought cookies or a pie to the church sale, her oven conveniently always seemed to break down right before it, I mean, seriously! And then she had the nerve to take one of the pies home with her, saying it hadn´t been sold, but I personally saw her putting it under one of the tables so no one would sell it! So, when Josh and whatshername...ah, Sheila, was it, finally broke up, I had such big hopes for him and Sharon, but, well, you know what happened then.”  
It was clear from Jensen´s father´s expression that he didn´t have the slightest idea what his wife was talking about. Even Jensen felt a little dizzy. He knew for a fact that Josh had been dumped rather unceremoniously by Sheila the day before Prom after he´d found her making out with one of his classmates in one of the boys´ bathroom stalls – according to Chris, she was “Giving Todd Bradley a blowjob that made him whine like a dog in heat”. Josh had been pretty upset after that, had drunk way too much of the sweet, and heavily spiked, punch on Prom Night, fallen down the stairs when leaving the school building and broken his ankle.  
He´d spent the next week in the hospital, where he shared a room with a guy his age who happened to have a very attractive, very smart, and very sweet sister, who Josh was going to marry in a few months. Fate, as Chris had put it, could `be a bitch, but sometimes she gets it right.´  
“So, uhm... Sheila...?”  
“Not Sheila, Sharon. Sharon Holloway, Molly Holloway´s daughter.”  
"Well... yes?”  
His father´s confusion hadn´t cleared one bit, it seemed.  
“Well, Molly Holloway told me that Sharon had told her that the late Mr. Collin´s son will visit the company next week. You know how everyone was talking about the company closing down after old Mr. Collins had died, his son, who has a very strange name, not that I can remember, but it was definitely strange, sounded European or even Russian if you ask me, but you know how old Mr. Collins could be so eccentric on times, always traveling to the weirdest places, anyway, and the Sheppard’s living in England now, but well, to cut a long story short, this Collins boy is going to visit, and Molly Holloway said that Sharon told her that there is still hope now , him coming and all. Isn´t that great?  
“And what´s more, he´ll stay at the old mansion up the hill, as far as I know it has been closed since Mr. Collin´s death, and it´s a shame, such a nice house, and the gardens always so perfectly kept! Carla from the bakery said her sister´s husband was hired to mow the lawn once a month, but that´s it, I can´t even imagine what those beautifully arranged flower beds will look like after such a long time! Just think about our small garden, and how much work one has to put into it to keep it nice and tidy!”  
Jensen sighed, oh yes, he could tell a story about mowing duties, and pulling weeds for hours, and cleaning the driveway from any plant that, according to his Mom, was a personal offense to her proud home owner´s eye.  
“So, what you´re saying is, some boy no one has seen or heard of in years will stop by to have a look at his late father´s struggling company.”  
“Well, yes! Isn´t it exciting? And you know, I bet he´s good looking, too, Mr. Collins was such a handsome man, and they say his wife was a real beauty. I wonder how old he is? God knows this town needs some fresh blood on the market!”  
Oh, jeez. Jensen made a mental note to warn his sister. He had an inkling where this was going. Having been the victim of his mother´s futile match making attempts for years, it was his duty to save his little sis from being thrown into the game without a heads-up.  
“You realize the young man visiting could also mean that he´s intending to sell the company, or go ahead with the closure, or move it elsewhere.”  
Jensen´s Mom made a dismissive gesture with her hand.  
“Oh, don´t be such a grumpy spoilsport. He´s reopening the mansion, and rumor has it that he´s already hired someone to clean and cook for a whole two weeks after his arrival. That has to mean something good, right? Oh dear, I have to go tell Lauren all about it! She´ll be thrilled! We have to invite the young man to church, maybe even organize some welcome gathering after mass on Sunday, his father was such a generous donor whenever we needed something for repairs or charity...”  
She had already turned and was headed through the open glass doors again, murmuring to herself. His father looked a little dazed, Jensen´s mom could have that effect on people, but also relieved.  
Jensen slipped around the corner, having made sure his Mom was well out of sight, and entered the room that had become his father´s refuge during the last years, aside from his garage.  
“Hey, Dad!”  
Alan Ackles jerked, and Jensen could barely grab the beer bottle that had almost slipped his father´s fingers.  
“Christ, Jensen, stop sneaking up on me like that! You´ll give me a heart attack one day!”  
Jensen handed him the beer and bent down, pulling a six-pack out from under the stuffed chair. He took one of the remaining two bottles and straightened up again.  
“Cheers, Dad! Didn´t know you were so easily scared.” He grinned, and they clanked their bottles´ necks together.  
“So, what was all that excitement about?”, Jensen asked casually, taking a long swig from his bottle. Man, he´d been looking forward to it for hours.  
“Well... looks like the Collins kid is coming to town. Your mother seems to think he´s going to keep the company.” Alan sounded hesitant.  
“But...you aren´t?”  
“God knows I´ll be the first to kiss the guy if he decides to give it a chance. It´s not like jobs are easy to find around here, and with the company closing, the whole region would suffer tremendously...but I know the numbers we´ve made lately, and without some heavy investment into modernizing the whole production progress, and new markets, it doesn´t look too good. Sometimes I`m surprised I still have a job, being one of the older employees down there. They´ve let off people constantly, or rather, not brought in new ones for the ones retiring. And no one has invested in the company for years.”  
Jensen frowned. His father had been an accountant for Collins & Sheppard, the local company producing convenience food, for almost 30 years. He´d actually taken on the job when Donna had gotten pregnant with Josh about a year after their wedding – to have a stable job that would provide for his family. The acting had always been kind of a fun dream, or so he used to say.  
“So...you think he´ll sell? Or...close it?”  
Alan rubbed his front pensively. “I don´t know. Your mother thinks it´s a good sign he´s showing up personally, after so many years – what, the boy can´t have been more than five when he last visited with his mother during the summer months.”  
“It could be.”  
“Yeah, it could. Let´s just hope it is.”  
They finished their beers in silence. Alan eyed Jensen for a moment before he started to say something, but closed his mouth again.  
“What”, Jensen asked, eyebrows raised.  
“Uhm... I got the impression your mother thinks the Collins boy would be a good catch. She´ll do her best to throw one of you into his path, if I know anything about her.”  
“Well, he´s filthy rich, if the rumors are true. If he´s single, everyone around town will try to sink their hooks into him, won´t they?”  
“When did my son become such a cynic? You should be excited about some...uhm...`fresh blood on the market´, as your mother put it, either for Mackenzie or yourself. Your mom´s very enthusiastic about the situation.”  
Jensen sighed. “I´ll try to dampen Mom´s enthusiasm, if that´s what you mean.”  
His father grinned, then snorted. “Good luck with that.”  
“You could be helpful, you know? Reigning her in,” Jensen fake-glared at his father.  
“Oh, no, no, no. Son, once you´ve been married for almost 30 years, you know where to pick your battles. Besides, I think she really enjoys herself a lot, with all that scheming and plotting. Let´s have her have some fun.”  
Jensen sighed again. “Well, if you put it like that... I only hope all of us get through it without bruises.” He remembered the last time his mom had dragged him through the church hall to meet some visiting nephew of a town family he barely knew, and shuddered.  
“Josh´s the lucky one...again. Well out of sight and happily engaged.”  
“I´m sure he´s devastated to miss out on all the thrilling events that are to unravel here, come next week.”  
Jensen rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. We´ll see if you´re still laughing once Mom hits her stride!”


	2. After Church Special

The Town Hall was buzzing with voices. Bursts of laughter erupted from the general murmur now and then. Groups of giggling girls occupied the corners and a few of the younger teens wove in between the adults as stealthily as possible, fearing to be detected and sent back to the equivalent of a kid’s table, the large room downstairs where someone had organized board games, crayons and even a few DVDs for the younger population.  
The excitement was tangible.  
As soon as Salt & Burn, the local band, took the small stage on the far end of the hall, the atmosphere filled with even more nervous energy. Chris, Steve and Jason managed to walk the narrow line between pleasing the older folks with country rock and folk ballads and meeting the expectations of a younger audience with their more alternative rock style. The group had started as a High School band, but was now playing fairly regularly around the county, and had been invited to a few festivals already.   
Jensen watched them get ready, plugging in their guitars, Steve adjusting his drums; they´d been hired to play so people could dance, it would therefore be a pretty country-centered gig, and felt a little twinge in his heart. He´d been one of the original band members, back in school, and he´d loved practicing, experimenting, writing songs, finding the right words to a gripping melody or the perfect tune to something that couldn´t be said with words alone.  
But then, Mack´s disease hit, followed by the horrendous costs of therapies, hospitals, medication, and the necessary changes at the house´s first floor to accommodate it for her special needs, well, in between school, and working all kinds of odd jobs to contribute to the suddenly tight family income, he just couldn´t find the time to attend band practice any more.  
They´d played one last concert together, a charity event to scratch together the money for Mack´s state of the art wheel chair, and that was the end of his career as Salt & Burn’s guitarist/singer.   
Jensen didn´t regret it, never had, never would. Mack got better, or at least, the doctors managed to slow down the diseases´ progress; Josh joined the army to still be able to become a doctor. Jensen changed his plans, and stayed, not wanting to leave his parents and Mack behind. He went to community college, working half-time while he had classes and full time during the holidays, finally got his degree in graphic design and advertising. Mack would be finishing school this summer, even with all the weeks she´d missed because of her hospital stays; but the network of family and friends helped her, helped them all.   
Sometimes they´d jam, on barbecue nights or when Steve couldn´t find the lyrics he was looking for. Jensen had always been better with words than the other three.  
He loved those evenings, friends and music and beer, almost like a time travel back to their carefree teenage years, without the beer, of course.  
On stage, Jason took the mic, inviting everyone to ‘dance their feet off’, and then the hall was suddenly filled with rows of whirling, moving people, everyone laughing and shouting and stomping their boots on the stone floor. It was messy, loud, and barely organized, but everyone seemed to have a ton of fun. Jensen was suddenly pushed forward and out of his musings by something hitting the back of his legs, hard.  
“Jen! Stop hiding behind the column and dance with me! It´s your big brother duty evening, so, no excuses!”  
He turned, rubbing his legs, and grinned down at the beautiful young woman staring up at him with a fake pout.  
“Hey, little sis. You look stunning tonight!”  
“Thank you. But your sweet talk won´t get you out of dancing duty, you know!”  
“Dammit,” Jensen murmured, turning his eyes towards heaven exaggeratedly.  
“Come on, Grumpy! I´ll be right there all the steps of the way. No one will dare harm a hair on your pretty head, my cute prince.”  
“Now that that´s settled, my fair lady – would you kindly be mine for the next dance?” Jensen said, bowing deeply in front of his sister, taking her hand and kissing the air right above it with a smacking sound. It was a game they´d been playing for years, teasing each other mercilessly.  
Five minutes later, they were spinning and moving with the rest of the crowd, singing along with the band, out of breath and happy. Even if the whole event had been planned as a big welcome to the much awaited Mr. Collins, it was, more than anything, an evening for everyone to have fun and forget about jobs at risk and mortgages for a while.  
Mackenzie was soon stolen from his side by one of her friends, and Jensen watched her swirl and roll back and forth with the dancers on her wheelchair, decorated with a string of battery powered Christmas lights for the evening, eyes bright with mirth.  
He soon got pulled onto the dance floor again by Danneel, and he had to admit he hadn´t enjoyed himself that much for quite a while. Not having to think about the future, the lack of jobs in town, even with a degree, the fact he was still living with his parents at 24, the possibility that the company would be closed, making so many people lose their jobs, including his father, and the constant threat of Mack´s health issues... he shoved it all far, far back somewhere in his head, grinned back into Danneel´s laughing face, spun her around to make her long hair fly, whooping when Mack did her special wheel spin right in the middle of their crazy group.  
The whole sweaty mess of people came to a stuttering halt, though, when old Mr. Haggerty climbed the stage and tried to get Chris´ attention by violently shaking his shoulder.  
“What the F***?!” Chris shouted, right into the microphone, to the general amusement of the whole room; Jason stopped singing, turning to see what had happened; and so only Steve, 100% absorbed in his drums, went on for a few more beats, eyes closed, until he finally realized his friends had stopped playing.  
Mr. Haggerty took the stage like a pro, he was the former head of the Town Council, after all, and grabbed the microphone out of Chris´ hand.  
“Dear Ladies and Gentlemen. Our guest of honor has arrived. Please let me introduce you to Mr. Misha Collins!”  
The dancers scattered and hastily pressed together along the walls to make room in the middle of the hall. Some of the younger ones even went as far as to climb on chairs to get a better look at the famous Mr. Collins. Jensen felt himself pulled towards the front by Danneel.   
“Damn, Jen, come on, I want to see the new attraction in town!” she whispered none too quietly. They were still pushing their way through the crowd when the large doors opened, and a small group of people entered. The room fell almost quiet.  
Jensen, with his well over six feet, spotted two men and a woman, accompanied by the mayor, who looked even more pompous than usual. One of the men, Jensen noticed, was tall, really tall, towering over his companions; his longish chestnut hair was swept back from his face, and together with his high-collared, perfectly tailored jacket it made him look rather haughty. The frown on the man´s face stood in harsh contrast to the other, shorter man´s wide, excited smile: dark blue eyes swept over the room, taking in the jostling, gaping crowd. A mop of unruly, almost black hair made Jensen immediately think of lazy Sunday mornings and breakfast in bed.  
“Holy shit,” he heard Danneel murmur right beside him.   
“Exactly,” he muttered back. “Which one of the two is Collins? Grumpy Giant or Bubbly Bedhead?”  
She elbowed him in the ribs – a bad habit of hers -, and he barely suppressed a yelp.  
“I think it´s the shorter one. Gen said she remembers him from when he was visiting as a small boy, and he had the most stunning blue eyes! I wonder who the tall one is, though. Could be his boyfriend. Do you know if Collin´s is taken? Would be just my luck to have two hot men within reach, and they both turn out to be gay!”  
“Your loss, my gain”, Jensen grinned down at her, and hastily jumped back to avoid another jab to his ribs. Danneel´s elbows were uncomfortably pointy weapons.  
Unfortunately, his movement caused the person at his side to stumble against their neighbors, setting people in motion like falling dominos. The commotion drew the new guests´ attention, and Jensen, trying to grab the poor neighbor´s arm to prevent him from falling, found himself suddenly staring right into the cool eyes of Mr. Tall and Handsome. The frown on the man´s face deepened for a moment, before giving way to a slightly disgusted expression. The group was ushered on by the mayor, who looked a little embarrassed by the incident, and once the guests had reached the designated table at the far end of the hall, the band sprang to life again, so that soon the room was once more filled with music and dancing , laughing people.  
Jensen couldn´t dwell too long on the look Mr. Collin´s companion had thrown him, though, cause shortly after they´d started dancing again, his mother zeroed in on him and Mack, grabbed Jensen by the arm and dragged him behind her unceremoniously, shouting at Mack to follow them, “for God´s sake!”.  
Before he´d had the chance to ask her what the ruckus was all about, he found himself pushed right in front of a, slightly startled, Mr. Collins, and his entourage. Jensen couldn´t help the blush that warmed his cheeks when he spotted the raised eyebrows on all their faces.  
“Mr. Collins!”  
His mom´s voice, which could be everything from steely to soothing, definitely went towards barely veiled excitement this evening.  
“What a blessing it is to have you finally here in our beautiful town!”   
Jensen didn´t miss the snort from Mr. Tall and Haughty, even if the guy tried to hide it behind a cough.   
“I´m Donna Ackles, please, let me introduce you to our family! Well, this here is my husband, Alan Ackles, he has been working at your father´s company for many, many years!” His father nodded, slightly embarrassed, and shook hands with the smiling Mr. Collins.   
“And this is our Mackenzie. Isn´t she a beauty!”  
Mr. Collins was as startled by that statement as Jensen and his father, obviously; Mack, however, chided her without missing a beat. “Mum! You can´t say stuff like that! And it´s Mack, by the way!”  
She beamed up at Mr. Collins. “Forgive my mom, she´s a tiny little bit excited about...all this.” Her hand´s sweeping motion encompassed the room, people, noise, and their little family.  
The man looked down at her, and automatically reached out to shake her hand.  
“Oh, but she´s totally right!”  
The blush that crept up his face after that statement made look Jensen´s earlier one pale.  
Mack sniggered.  
Mr. Collins hastily added, “I mean, I´m so excited, too, I haven´t been here for so long, and it´s absolutely fascinating to meet all the people and see the places again! And you ARE beautiful!” he blurted the last sentence out, turning an interesting shade of crimson as soon as the words had left his mouth.  
Jensen watched his sister´s cheeks blush prettily, too.  
“Well, thank you, Mr. Collins,” she said modestly.   
Jensen tried to hide his grin behind his raised hand, but it was swept off his face easily enough when his mom grabbed his arm to pull him a little closer.  
“And this is Jensen, our second son. He just finished his degree at our community college, graphic design, can you believe it? He´s always loved drawing, made the most amazing pictures for everyone even at five years old! You should see the flying dragons he brought home from school one day, he won a prize for the picture and the essay that went with it, we were so proud! I still have the drawing on the wall in our kitchen! You have to see it one day! Of course, it´s not easy to find a job around here, but we all have our fingers crossed, haven´t we, darling?”  
Jensen felt the heat climb up from his chest right to the roots of his hair. He wouldn´t be surprised if his ears were smoking already. Great. His face must be looking like a tomato. He didn´t even dare look right at poor Mr. Collins, who seemed momentarily stunned by Mrs. Ackles´ word flow. When a hand crossed his vision, he hastily grabbed it and murmured, “Pleased to meet you,” glancing up through his eyelashes.  
“Oh no, the pleasure is all mine!” Mr. Collins answered, his cheeks also slightly flushed. “it´s really nice to meet your family, Mrs. Ackles, I feel so welcome here, it´s almost like coming home!” His glance seemed to be magnetically pulled back to Mack.  
Jensen´s mom looked deeply satisfied and nodded in acknowledgment. “But you are, Mr. Collins, you are! It´s a pity our older son Josh isn´t here, but he´s a doctor with the army, so we don´t see him much anymore.” She threw a glance over at Mr. Collins´ companions. “But tell me, who are your handsome friends? I don´t think I´ve seen them around here before!”  
“Oh, my God, I´m so sorry, where are my manners!”, Mr. Collins cried. “Let me introduce you! This is my dear friend, Mr. Jared Padalecki. He´s been so kind as to agree on giving me advice on all this company stuff, as my experience is so limited. And this”, he gestured to the extremely bored looking woman at his side, “Is my cousin Alaina. She´s here for the family support...or so I think.” He glanced at the woman for a moment, a frown on his face, but it vanished when she winked at him and extended her hand to Jensen´s mom.   
“Of course, why else would I come to the middle of nowhere, Misha? The family must be represented appropriately, what with your poor mother gone now too.” Her face, still without emotion aside from a hint of contempt, belied her words though.  
Jensen shook her somewhat limp hand after his mother. He felt like some underling put in front of the queen herself, and being honored with an attention he wasn´t worthy of.   
At all.   
He noticed that Mr. Padalecki hadn´t shaken anyone´s hand, but merely nodded at them shortly. Jensen tried not to be bothered by the obvious disdain Mr. Collin´s companions showed for them all, hell the whole town, but was only partly successful.  
“How nice of you to stand by your cousin´s side. There´s nothing like family support when we find ourselves in challenging situations!” His mom, always the cheerful mediator, bulldozed over the awkward moment.  
Mr. Collin´s cousin pulled her perfectly painted lips into a condescending smile. “Indeed,” she said dryly. The band chose that moment to start playing a song Jensen recognized as one of his mother´s favorites. Sure enough, his mom perked up immediately, clapped her hands and turned to her husband.   
“Oh dear, they are playing our song, Alan! Let´s dance, and don´t you say no to me, mister!” She turned back to their little group, while Alan nodded his quiet good bye to the guests, already holding her hand. “Aren´t you dancing, Mr. Collins? I know it doesn´t look like it, but Mackenzie is a whirlwind on the dance floor! You´re lucky if you can keep up with her!” With that, she was pulled away by Jensen´s father. Mr. Collins bit his lower lip, throwing a shy glance at Mack, who for the first time seemed a little self-conscious.   
“Would you – I mean, are you really...” He cleared his throat. The small red stains on his cheeks were kind of adorable, Jensen thought.   
“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me?” Mr. Collins finally got out without stammering, and he seemed just as relieved as the rest of them. Mack blushed once more, but she obviously had overcome her moment of shyness.  
“I´d love to”, she simply said and turned her wheelchair around, looking back over her shoulder to see if her dance partner was following. Jensen winked at her when he caught her eyes for a moment. This Collins guy seemed nice enough, and not stuck-up at all – unlike his companions, who really did their best to fit their part of douchy rich snobs.  
He noticed the dissatisfied frown on Tall and Handsome´s (Ok, no, it´s Mr. Padales... Pada... Padalecki now, Jensen) face while his eyes followed his friend´s departure, a frown even deepening when Mr. Collins and Mack immediately started to have fun on the dance floor. Mr. Collin´s cousin excelled in looking bored and irritated at the same time, sipping her - whatever the sparkling liquid in her glass was.  
Mr. Padalecki (heck, he´d liked Tall and Handsome more, although – Tall, handsome and douchy probably covered it much better) followed his friend´s every move with sharp, critical eyes; Jensen couldn´t help but feel neglected... or rather, dismissed. He didn´t like it.  
“Do you dance?” he blurted out. And immediately felt the heat on his face when Mr. Padalecki´s slanted eyes (and dammit, tall, handsome, douchy and darn, darn sexy” would be the appropriate name-in-his-head for the guy) turned his way, with noticeable reluctance. The tall man looked at Jensen as if he was having a hard time remembering who he was or if he´d ever seen him before.  
“Not if I can help it,” he said, turning back to watch the mayhem the merry townspeople were causing on the dance floor.  
Jensen was stunned.   
Did this guy just.... ground, please open up and swallow me whole...  
With flaming cheeks, he turned and ducked away behind the people already closing in on the intimidating guests of honor to get their glimpse of all the glamour. He hadn´t come far when a hand grabbed his own and pulled him behind the row of columns running alongside the Hall´s northern wall, the best place to watch, but not be seen.  
“Someone hit you on your head, Jensen? You sure look like it.” Danneel´s grinning face finally snapped him out of his perplexed state.  
“This guy´s unbelievable!” he blurted out, immediately covering his mouth. No need to embarrass himself even more in front of the whole town.  
“Oh dear, yes...” Danneel sighed, throwing a longing glance in Giant Douchebag´s direction. “Isn´t he? Sooooo sexy, and tall, and have you noticed his shoulders? And those legs, imagine how.... oh, man. I’m sure he’s proportionate, too…” Her mind seemed to drift off into PG18 rated areas, cause her eyes sure looked glassy all of a sudden. Jensen knew that face. He shook her arm unceremoniously. “Would you stop drooling over the guy? He´s a douchebag!”  
“Oh!”, she said, pulling her eyes off the man in question. “Is he, now!”   
“He´s fucking rude. And he and this ...cousin, whatever, if they get any more uppity and snooty, they might start floating above all of us.”  
Danneel tilted her head, squinting at him. “What did he do?” she asked, a grin pulling at her lips.  
Jensen shrugged, suddenly feeling childish. “It´s...it ...doesn´t matter. They just act as if we were a bunch of yokels not worthy of their attention.” He knew he was pouting, and didn´t care at all.  
Danneel sniggered. “Well, you know, the smell of all those muck heaps we keep in our backyards might stick to us more than we thought. I mean, when did you last clean out your cow barn?”  
Jensen couldn´t help but chuckle at that. Danneel always had that effect on him. “You mean the one right behind the pigsty? Hm, let me think about it....was it last year or the year before...” Danneel elbowed him and made a wise face, shaking her head sadly.  
“See? And here you are, wondering why strangers don´t like you.”  
“Hey, I didn´t say that!”, he cried, rubbing his side. “I said they´re acting stuck-up, is all! Looking down their long noses at us poor, hard-working peasant-folk!”  
Danneel patted his arm. “Wear your dirty wellies with pride, Jensen, and keep your pitchfork sharp. We´ll show the royalty their place, come time! Revolution! Here we come!”  
Her theatrical gesture and exaggerated voice made Jensen double over with silent laughter. When he straightened up again, wiping his eyes, he wrapped his arm around Danneel´s shoulders. “Thanks, Danni. Glad we have you as our fearless leader! This Padaleski guy better watch out!”  
Danneel sniggered once more, but stopped suddenly. “Wait, what did you say?”  
“Uhm, you ... fearless-leader...”  
“No, the name? What´s his name?”  
“Uhm... Padaleski or something?”  
“Padalecki?” Jensen flinched. Danneel´s voice had gone up about an octave.  
“Yes... I guess? That´s what Collin´s called him.”  
“Are you fucking kidding me? PADALECKI??? Jensen, are you even real?” She looked as scandalized as if he´d not recognized his own mother. His clueless face made her sigh exasperatedly. “Honestly, Jensen, how do you NOT know that name! What´s the sense in being gay when you don´t fit the cliché one bit! No fun in that!”  
Jensen frowned. “What, you want me to shake my ass in too tight pants and talk in a high-pitched voice?”  
She shook her head. “No, you moron. Although – I wouldn´t be opposed to the tight pants and the ass-shaking, you´ve got a great ass, Jen. Don´t even know why you´re always hiding it in those baggy old jeans of yours.” He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but she shut him up with a glare. “Don´t you ever read celebrity mags or watch talk shows when getting a haircut like anyone else? Or at least read the Financial Times now and then? Or Forbes?”  
He shrugged his shoulders. He wasn´t really keen on telling Danneel that he still had his hair cut by his mom. Why spend a twenty on something she volunteered to do just fine for free, and barely found the time to watch the news now and then, what with first. finishing college, and looking for a ‘real’ job while working a number of others just to keep afloat ... not to speak of the secret project he kept working on whenever possible, something he hadn´t even told her, his best friend, about yet?  
She sighed again. “You´re all work, no fun,” she said, but squeezed him right after in a warm hug, pressing an affectionate kiss to his cheek.. When she emerged again, she glanced over at the group gathered around the guests of honor. The famous Mr. Collins had joined his friends again, wiping his front with a lily white handkerchief – who used things like that anymore! – a happy smile on his flushed face)   
“The Padalecki’s are one of the wealthiest families around! Started with oil and cattle, being Texan and all, but now they additionally own a conglomerate of companies and stuff. This must be Jared, the elusive heir, then. He´s rarely ever seen at social events. They say he owns half of Texas!”  
Jensen stared at the far end of the room, at Padalecki´s – Jared´s? – stiff back. His shoulders looked incredibly tense, even from afar.  
“Must be the miserable half, then”, he murmured. They stared at each other for a moment, then doubled over, sniggering like teenagers.   
And just like that, Jensen pushed Mr. Giant Douche Padalecki to the back of his mind, and went back to enjoying his evening out with family and friends, good music, beer and laughter.   
If they did make a lot of fun of the mayor and his guests, no one ever noticed.


	3. A Morning Visit

For a few days after the first contact with Mr. Collins and his entourage, the town life seemed to fall back into its usual quiet routine. Jensen went to his various jobs – from early morning shifts at Rick´s Cafe, engulfed in heavenly coffee scent (a definite perk of a student´s job he´d kept even after getting his degree) to his late afternoons/evenings at the book store that included everything from unpacking new merchandise to creating advertising flyers or posters for upcoming events.   
It sure wasn´t what he´d gotten his college education for, but it was earning him at least the bucks to pay back his students´ loans, given that he was lucky enough to live (and eat) at his parents´ place for free.   
In between, he was helping his mom in the kitchen, fetched Mack from school or took her to her appointments or therapy sessions when his mom was at work at the library, or joined his dad in the old garage where they tried to restore an old Chevy to its former beauty, in fact , had been doing so for years. It was probably one of those projects where the journey really is the destination, but Jensen enjoyed the hours spent under the car or bent over the engine, his dad humming along with the music coming from the old radio on an oil stained shelf, occasionally explaining something, or just thinking out loud. His mom called it ‘Alan´s sanctuary’, and she was probably right about it; even when the financial strain Mack´s treatments put on the family income made it impossible to order missing parts or get a professional to help them, they kept the car, if only for sentimental and ‘recreational’ reasons.  
The very few free evenings were spent watching TV or helping Mack with some homework, although she rarely needed it, and working on his project in the peacefulness of his room – a sanctuary just as much as the garage. The big drawing table that dominated his room was strewn with sheets on one end, while holding stacks of drawings in an impressive filing system on the other; in between, empty Campbell Soup cans (one had to show some artistic pride after all) held his collection of pencils, brushes and crayons. His MacBook, probably his most valuable possession, throned in the center.  
This project – it was his baby. Jensen had loved comic books right from the first time his older brother brought home the first Captain America edition he´d bought with his own money. But he was really hooked when he went to the comic book store with Josh, having pestered him for days, and discovered Batman. They clicked. Sure, Captain America was cool, if a little self-righteous sometimes, Wolverine and Hulk and all the Avengers had their merits. But Batman? He was just a guy. No super-powers, if you didn´t count filthy amounts of money, an estate with a freaking cave system underneath, a technically gifted butler, and a spooky bat experience. Still, he was human, and therefore also flawed, limited and vulnerable like everyone else.  
Jensen worshipped him. From ages 5-15, his Halloween costume would be Batman-related, as in Batman from the 30s to the 80s, crafted in all detail. At 16, he spent weeks creating a Batmobile costume, built-in candy-holding buckets included, much to Danneel´s delight. At 17, he fell into sort of a crisis and went for Robin the Boy Wonder, the original version in tight black hot pants, which ultimately led to him coming out at the Thanksgiving family dinner that year, where no one seemed surprised much, really; the final step in a self-discovery journey that started once Josh couldn´t stop babbling about Catwoman or Super Girl´s DD cups and endless legs, and Jensen realized all he did was stare at Superman´s ass or Captain America´s impressive shoulders in their super tight, super stretchy super hero suits.  
The summer before his first year in High School, he discovered the Morrison/McKean graphic novels. It was a life-changing experience: imagery, symbolism, surrealistic collages, personalized lettering, all helping an already dark, psychologically jarring story turning eerily disturbing.   
And here he was, a brand new college degree in his pocket, no real job to speak of, but with a dream in his heart that had been building and growing inside him since that long ago day when he fished Josh´s Captain America comic book out from under his brother´s bed and started deciphering the words coming with the pictures.  
To create his own graphic novel.  
It wasn´t until Josh left for the military and his studies that he started working on it for real, though. They´d always shared a tight bond, even with four years of age difference. As much as they were bickering daily, to their parents´ grief, and overly competitive sometimes, they were loyal and had each other’s backs the moment a common enemy presented itself to their united front, ranging from suspicious or accusatory mothers to bullies trying to get to Jensen. Therefore, it wasn´t a surprise when Jensen discovered he missed his big brother fiercely. Thankfully, his friends stepped in, hanging out a lot in the newly added Winter Garden. For a while, Jensen developed quite the crush on Aaron, a cute new boy who´d started sharing his classes that year, but what helped him coping the most was finding an outlet for his feelings in his ‘novel’. The story came to him in a kind of epiphany one stormy autumn evening, tree branches clattering against their rattling windows, and the lights inside constantly flickering. It was a classic horror movie setting, the family trapped in the house, manning flashlights, listening to the eerie sounds coming from the attic.  
And suddenly, they appeared right in front of his inner eye: two brothers, fighting the evil invisible to the rest of the world, helping without any reward or recognition, driving through the country in an old, but beloved Chevy. Mack was just going through a heavy Harry Potter phase, posters, scarfs, and for a while even a white plush owl in a cage adorning her room, pulling Jensen into movie nights on occasion; and the idea of a whole world hidden from the unknowing majority of mankind had appealed to him from the start.   
Josh had always been obsessed with mythology, lore and history, saving more than one dull car ride with his stories of Greek Gods, famous witches, Japanese alcohol spirits, Leprechauns and poltergeists...in Jensen´s mind, all those creatures came to life, together with ghosts, vampires, werewolves, ghouls and every other grisly monster mankind´s imagination had ever feared and fought. He started digging into lore and myths himself, finding all kinds of interesting facts, and a hell of a lot more totally crazy sightings and theories on internet sites and forums. He soon decided that the only way to go would be to create his very own version of all the monsters and mythical creatures, deliberately changing killing methods, inventing spells, his Latin course in High School finally paid off for that, and scrolling through pages after pages of museum sites online to find interesting weapons for his heroes.  
There was such a mass of material, and so many stories building immediately in his head, that the most difficult decision was what story to tell first. He could see a whole series developing, with twelve issues per year, for years and years to come. Well, a man could always dream, right?  
Now, after almost five years of on/off working, his first graphic novel was about to be finished. As far as finished goes, when you´re kind of a perfectionist. 

 

Of course, the peace and quiet didn´t last long. It so happened that Jensen´s mom met Mr. Collins at the library. “Can you believe it? He remembered coming here one summer when it was raining constantly, and wanted to revisit the library because, and I quote, "It literally saved his life!” and she ended up inviting herself and her family over to pay a visit to the Collins Mansion “Nothing formal, dear, just a morning call on Saturday!”  
This visit, however, turned out to mean that all of them were having breakfast in the vast Winter Garden, and man, some real winter garden it was! Mack arguing with Mr. Collins about everything from books to environmental and humanitarian engagement, obviously, Mr. Collins was quite invested in several charity organizations, Jensen´s mom talking the bored red haired cousin´s head off, and Jensen trying, and failing, to start a conversation with Mr. Jared Padalecki, who did not offer to be on first name terms. He ended up talking almost as much as his mother, being painfully aware of it all the time, and when they finally got up and left, Mr. Collins pushing Mack´s wheelchair like a real gentleman, Jensen was barely managing not to implode from embarrassment.  
Additionally, his mom and sister had talked the delighted Mr. Collins into hosting a big town ball at the Mansion, a tradition founded by Mr. Collins senior that seemed to have been one of the social highlights of the older generation´s youth. Which meant that Jensen would have to be back within a week. At least, there would be a lot of other townsfolk around, a comfortable crowd to hide in. NO way was he talking to Mr. Padalecki again, or the creepy cousin, at that. It was bad enough he´d have to wear a freaking COSTUME (seriously, a costume ball? He could have strangled his sister!).   
Of course, Danneel was absolutely hysterical when she heard about it.


	4. The Ball

“Dammit, Danni, these pants keep creeping up my ass. How did people even walk in these things in 1815! And I look ridiculous! OUCH!”  
If Danni had rolled her eyes any harder, they´d probably have fallen out of their eye sockets.  
“Stop whining. First, try wearing one of these dresses before you complain about the trousers. Second, they hug your ass like nothing you´ve ever worn before, Jensen. You know what? You don´t look ridiculous. To be honest, you look de-lect-able. Absolutely fabulous. Like you were born in a grand mansion surrounded by huge plantations, ready to live a life of lazing around under the southern sun. God, I hate these flat shoes!”  
Danneel stared at her offending shoe-wear while absentmindedly playing with the fake pearls strung around her delicate neck. Jensen tugged at the high collar of his starched shirt and sighed.  
“You look stunning, Danni. As if you were meant to wear all...this.” He gestured at her Regency dress, finest gauze over white satin; the short sleeves and low neckline complimented her body perfectly. Her reddish hair was gathered in a bun, a few lazy curls falling softly around her face, and long satin gloves completed her outfit. She might have found all of it online for astonishingly few bucks – but she looked every ounce a lady.  
“So do you, Jensen. Believe me. Everyone will be staring at your ass tonight.”  
He snorted. “And that should be a comforting thought?”  
“Of course! It´s one of your finest assets. And the boots really bring out your bowlegs, you know?”  
He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh God, how could I let you talk me into this!”  
“If I hadn´t, your Mom and Mack would have dragged you here by your hair. I think you´ve got it way easier with me!”  
Jensen grumbled something into his offending collar – she had a point there, after all – and sighed.   
“So, what´s the plan for tonight?”  
“Are you kidding me?” she stared at him. “Who needs a plan? There´s free booze, free music, free food, and most of all, open range on whomever might show up, all clad up in tight pants and slim fitted jackets. It´s the ultimate hunting ground!” She grinned up at him. “And I´ve heard there´s at least eight bedrooms in there, not to mention secret little nooks and chambers and what not. So – I fully intend to have fun. What about you, grumpy? Going to hide from Mr. Padasexy all evening?”  
Jensen blushed slightly, but tried to hide it behind an angry frown.   
“There´s no reason to hide, believe me, the guy wouldn´t notice me if I were stripping in the middle of the dancing floor. So, I guess I´ll find Chris and Steve and Jason and get to the free booze.”  
“Uh-oh, someone´s really pissed you off,” Danny sniggered. “But I wouldn´t be too sure about the stripping part, Jen. I know quite a bunch of people who´d be happy to ogle you dancing naked.”   
Jensen huffed. Yeah, right.   
Danni´s expression grew serious though. “But Jensen, be careful with the alcohol. No need to overdo it and embarrass yourself. Don´t you dare start a drinking contest with Steve again, you hear me?”  
“I´ve never – I don´t – I´ve never embarrassed myself by being too drunk!”, Jensen sputtered, offended.  
She only raised her brow. “Do you really want me to answer that?”, she asked. “There´s the time in 8th grade when Chris mixed vodka into the pineapple juice at your birthday party. And then after the winter school dance, the night Aaron smuggled beer into the school? Except it wasn´t just beer, it was this super-strong Christmas brew that had everyone falling asleep? Except you managed to crawl -”  
“Okay, OKAY, I get it! Stop reminding me of the worst moments of my social life, Danni! It was hard enough to shove the memories down for all these years!”   
She shrugged nonchalantly. “See? Told you. So – if you don´t want to end up having a lot more of these memories to bury, don´t do anything stupid tonight. Right?”  
“Right”, Jensen grumbled.  
“And stop pouting.”  
“I´m not.”  
“So are!”  
“Am not!”  
“Okay, go on, it brings out your full, soft lips anyway. Mr. Padalecki will have no chance but to notice how kissable they look!”  
Jensen sent her a murderous glare; and if he pulled his lips into a straight line after that, it was only coincidental.

 

The taxi set them off at the end of the long, gently sloping driveway in front of Collins Mansion. Hundreds of lanterns had been placed along the entrance, down the stairs, and all around the vast garden; fairy lights had been strung around the white columns, and hung in the box-type windows, giving everything a festive, almost enchanted atmosphere.  
“Wow,” Danni sighed at his side, staring at the house while trying to gather her long dress together to be able to walk up the stairs. “Mr. Collins went all out, huh!”  
Jensen had to agree. The scene looked like right out of a fairy tale. When they entered the huge entrance hall, there were even more lights everywhere, and everyone was dressed up in what they assumed was Regency costumes although Jensen spotted a few questionable choices. Music was seeping down from upstairs, and the whole house seemed to be filled with excitement.  
They obviously were a little late to the party, Jensen blamed Danni and her elaborate hair styling. They were handed glasses of sparkling wine by one of the caterer´s employees, all decked out in costumes, too, and sent on their way to explore the house.  
“Oh great, that´s CHAMPAGNE, Jensen!”   
The ground floor living room, approximately the size of the whole first floor of his parent’s house, was hosting the buffet which smelled heavenly. The drawing room adjacent to it was set up as dining area, with lots of small standing tables, and two more rather large rooms waited for people to just stroll in and relax in the stuffed chairs and sofas.   
Danny grabbed two more glasses of champagne on their way upstairs, it was pretty warm inside, and tugged Jensen along. He was painfully aware of his tight trousers when he walked up the impressive stairway, desperately wanting to pull at them when they started riding up again.   
Soon enough, they ran into a bunch of Danni´s colleagues, already slightly tipsy and giggling, who went almost hysterical when they saw Jensen in his high-collared shirt, vest and trousers; he´d lost the jacket as soon as possible. The squealed comments ranged from, “Oh Jeez, you look gorgeous!” to “I´m gonna need more of that sparkling stuff to cool down” to “It´s sooo unfair! All the handsome ones are either taken or gay!” and naturally made Jensen blush.   
A tiny little voice way back in his head agreed when Danni whispered “See? Told you so!” in his ear, and if he felt a weeny bit satisfied that at least someone noticed he´d made an effort, he didn´t let it show.  
The girls grabbed both Danni and Jensen and pulled them past the entrance to the ballroom. Jensen glimpsed dancing couples in front of a freaking big band on a stage right to the back of the endless corridor, where loud thumping music seeped through closed doors.   
“Where are we going?”, he asked no one in particular, already a little dizzy from the heat and the two...no, three glasses of sparkling wine he´d downed pretty fast.   
“To the other dance floor!” one of the girls cried, opening a chorus of “WoootWooot!” by the others. “The ballroom´s for our parents, THIS is where the young folks are having fun!”   
A burly security man was positioned right in front of the huge doors, probably to lend authenticity to the dance club setting, Jensen thought.  
When he demanded they give the password, Danni´s friends happily obliged by screaming, “GERONIMOOOO!!!!” at the top of their lungs. The security guy didn´t bat an eye, but opened the door wide for them to enter. Once inside, Jensen gaped. If the Entrance Hall and what he´d seen of the ballroom had been a fairytale castle, this was.... Disco Princess Land. The music- loud, but not painfully so – engulfed him, bass and hard rhythm immediately pulsing through his entire body.   
Disco lights were...everywhere. Huge, slowly spinning globes were hanging from the ceiling...which was, at a closer inspection, a huge mirror, contributing to Jensen´s impression of entering a giant, crazily lit aquarium. Light chains with tiny disco balls covered every wall and the cocktail bar in the background, while colored spotlights sent wandering beams of red, green, blue and yellow across the room. Along the walls, people were chatting, bouncing their heads with the rhythm, colorful drinks in their hands; at the center of the room, right under a cluster of disco balls, a still rather small group of dancers moved in sync with the upbeat song coming from the speakers.  
“Let´s dance!”  
As soon as the happy group of girls hit the dance floor, the next song came on, and Jensen realized there was an actual DJ standing on a raised platform in one corner of the room. Danneel turned around to him, pulling him right onto the dance floor, and laughed at him.   
“Come on, Jen! We haven´t been to a dance club in ages! Let´s show them some moves!”  
Jensen grinned back at her.  
“Dancing contest?” he asked with a smirk.  
“OH, it´s so on!” Danneel squealed, throwing back her head – and started one of her crazy dance move sets. She´d created her own, very unique dancing style, a combination 100% pure Danneel.   
Jensen remembered exhausting dance practice sessions during High School, “Come on, Jen, we need to be top. And in sync. We´ll blow their minds out!” and he had to admit – they´d made heads turn at every school dance.  
The rest of the room faded away while he was getting into the rhythm of the song, watching Danneel spin and bend and laugh in front of him, music filling his body head to toes. The few glasses of champagne did their best to loosen him up, and he started to really enjoy himself.  
After three more songs, he stopped during the DJ´s unintelligible rambling to wipe his sweaty face, longingly eying the bar. Before he could be swallowed by the dancers again, however, he spotted his smiling sister right in front of the bar – and next to her, sitting on a felt covered cube, Mr. Collins gesticulated wildly, his expressive eyes glued to Mack´s face. Jensen bowed down to Danneel´s ear to tell her he´d be at the bar, getting a good bye wave from her, and wove in between the dancers to the back of the room.   
“Jensen!”, his sister cried happily upon seeing him appear in front of her, and reached out to pull him down for a kiss on his cheek.   
“You look delicious, oh, brother of mine!” she whispered into his ear, the following giggle ruining the effect somewhat.  
“Right back at ya”, he drawled lazily, earning him a slap to his arm.  
“Misha, you remember my brother, Jensen, right? You met at the welcome party!”  
Jensen turned to their host with a smile.   
“I wouldn´t be surprised if you didn´t. That must have been quite an overwhelming event for you, Mr. Collins.”  
“Oh, please, call me Misha! Let me assure you, some people sure left an impression.” The other man smiled back, stealing a glance at Jensen´s sister and blushing adorably.  
“Would you like something to drink? It´s only juice cocktails and sodas up here, but there´s a well-stocked bar on the ground floor if you´d prefer something stronger.”  
Jensen straightened up from his crouch at Mack´s side. “Oh, I´ll just have a soda, thank you very much, uhm... Misha?” He got a blinding smile in response, and found a soda pressed into his hand not five seconds later.  
He turned, opening his mouth to thank their blue-eyed host, who looked pretty stunning in his dark, slim-fitted coat, the extremely tight pants and blue necktie, when a dark shadow appeared right in front of him out of nowhere. Jensen jerked, losing his grip on the cold bottle in his hand. Long fingers wrapped around his own within an instant, stopping the accident before it could happen. Jensen´s eyes wandered up, and up, until they rested on a pair of slanted, intriguingly multi-colored ones.  
“Uhm...thanks?” he stammered, immediately blushing. Really smooth, Ackles.  
“I apologize for startling you like this, Mr. – uhm... Ackles, was it?”  
“Ackles, yes. But Jensen´s Okay, Mr. – Padalecki?”  
The man nodded a little stiffly. “It´s, uhm, it´s .. ah... Jared. Please.”  
Jensen was surprised to see a light blush bloom on the taller man´s face. It made him look younger, and more human, somehow. So there´s a human hidden in there after all... good to know.   
Studying the cold bottle in his hands for a moment, he looked up to find the taller man´s eyes still fixed on him.  
“Would you like to dance, Mr. Ackles? I mean” the man blushed again, rather furiously, “Jensen?”  
“Yes,” Jensen answered before he could even think about it, surprising himself as much as Jared Padalecki.  
“Oh,” the man said, not very eloquently, and part of Jensen was just a weeny bit satisfied by it, but seemed to recover from his surprise soon enough.   
“I´m glad to hear that,” he added, his polite, but cool mask back in place. “Shall we?”  
Jensen nodded jerkily and followed Padalecki´s broad back to the now grown group of dancers in the middle of the room. When Danneel spotted him, she waved excitedly, winking and wriggling her eyebrows. He only hoped Jared hadn´t seen any of it.  
Just when Jared had turned around, the DJ decided to bring one of the very songs Danny and Jensen had endlessly practiced to during one of their High School years.   
“Oh, God!” he exclaimed with a groan. Padalecki frowned down at him.  
“What´s wrong?” he asked. “Are you Okay?”  
Jensen felt the heat on his cheeks grow. “Oh, no, nothing´s wrong. It´s just...that song. Danny and I used to do a dance routine to it, you know? Many years ago...” He felt incredibly silly and childish. Especially in front of this tall, somber, filthy rich and crazy important man. He was surprised to see a small smile tug at the guy´s lips, though.   
“Would you show me?”, he asked.  
"Oh, yes... what?”   
“The dancing routine? Can I see it?”  
Jensen bit his lower lip skeptically, letting his eyes roam the moving crowd around them. Where was Danni when he needed her most?  
“Oh, I – uhm... well, I... I don´t...”  
“JENSEEEEEEN! IT`S OUR SONG!!!!”  
He spun around.   
Danneel came practically flying at him, eyes wide, her grin almost maniac. “Our song, Jen! Come on, come on, come on, we HAVE to do our moves, you won´t mind, will you?” The last part was directed at a slightly stunned Mr. Padalecki, who once more reacted smoothly though.   
“I´d be delighted to see you dance,” he answered, nodding at them both in a way that made Jensen feel like a little excited boy in front of an indulging parent.   
At his words, Danneel just grabbed Jensen´s hand and dragged him to a less crowded space. He wished he´d taken something stronger than a soda earlier, but didn´t have much time to dwell on his embarrassment, as Danneel started right away. They´d worked on this routine for weeks, back when they were only fourteen, it being their first ‘public’ appearance as a dancing couple. Everyone was waiting for them to become a ‘real’ couple afterwards, until Jensen´s coming out, that was. It was Danneel who´d dragged him into the whole dancing thing, Jensen being more focused on running track and playing baseball; but he discovered soon enough that he had tons of fun doing it. He´d always loved music, the way it spoke directly to his heart, his feelings, and his body. Danneel showed him how to transform these feelings into controlled movement. And how to have fun doing it.  
Now, it was as if time had been turned back. While he was still holding back for the first few steps and turns, once the first chorus came on, he felt sucked into it, forgetting about the rest of the room, and his embarrassment. They were fourteen again, and nothing could stop them.  
After a while, he registered people around them mimicking their movements, until the whole room seemed to be one huge dancing company, even if not much in sync most of the time. He looked up after a fast spin, only to find himself in front of a broad chest, slanted eyes staring down at him. In an instant, his embarrassment threatened to roll back full force, but when he realized that Mr. Tall and Sexy was dancing, too – and hell, he was a sight for sore eyes – embarrassment shrank back to where he could retrieve it later, when he´d have time to think about it.   
Padalecki had obviously lost his jacket while Jensen and Danny got started, the sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to reveal strong, muscular forearms, the top buttons of his velvet vest and his shirt open. Padalecki either was a natural or had done his own share of dancing practice in his youth, cause he followed each of Jensen´s movements easily enough, and with a great amount of grace and elegance – especially for a guy his size. Jensen found himself torn from Danni´s side when she traitorously just left him for one of her squealing friends, that is, and partnered with the intimidating Texan oil prince; but for the moment, it didn´t seem to matter. They were just two guys, feeling the rhythm, the beat reverberating inside their bodies, dancing it off ... and only when the song finally ended, damn, had it always been that short? Jensen realized that he´d been perfectly in sync with the guy, the other man almost as perceptive of his every move as Danni. They´d rarely ever lost eye contact, and hit by Padalecki´s body heat, his sensual way of moving to the music, and the undeniable sexiness and sheer presence of the man, Jensen felt pretty overwhelmed.   
So when the DJ started his usual babble, Jensen nodded at Padalecki, murmuring a quiet “Thank you,” and practically fled the room, weaving in between the clapping, cheering crowd around Danneel.  
He was headed for one of the balconies he´d noticed from the outside when they´d left the cab, but wasn´t sorry at all when two familiar figures walked through the huge ball room doors and stumbled right into him.   
“Jensen! Just the man we were looking for!”  
“Have you found the bar yet?”  
Jensen joined them in their search, and soon enough they were all gathered around the impressive counter, which, it seemed, was installed there permanently, spinning on the elegant high stools, tasting the fancy micro-brewery beers their host had stocked the bar with. Jensen was kind of a lightweight when it came to alcohol, much to his chagrin, so he tried to drink slowly and considerately; nevertheless, he found himself laughing more easily than usual after only a short while. Chris entertained the whole room with his talent to tell the most boring story in a way it had everyone bending over with laughter.  
When someone procured a guitar out of nowhere and pressed it into Jason´s arms, they soon found themselves surrounded by a cheering crowd. Chris had his arm around Jensen´s shoulders, and they were singing everything from Sweet home Alabama to Crazy Love, their audience swaying and singing along. Some of them even raised their lit lighters.  
Jensen hadn´t sung in front of an audience in quite a while, and he had to admit to himself he ´d missed it. It was a good feeling to make people happy by performing music, it was as much giving as it was getting something back. The alcohol everyone had consumed sure helped a lot in relaxing him. He´d always been a little shy on stage, and never got to the point where he felt entirely comfortable being in the spotlight.   
When Danni came looking for him because their pre-ordered cab was already waiting in front of the house, he was surprised at how fast the hours had passed by, and how nice the evening had been, all in all. He waved a generic good bye to everyone, hugged both Steve and Chris, and let himself be dragged to the doors by Danneel. In passing, he noticed a dark, looming figure leaning against the wall; taller and with broader shoulders than everyone else. He waved once more, grinning widely, he felt really good, dammit! and he could have sworn he felt eyes burning into his back all the way through the entry hall and down the steps of Mr. Collin´s mansion.  
The next morning, he so regretted all that beer. Not the singing, though.   
Nor the dancing.

Three more days passed, and after Mr. Collin´s guests had recovered from their hangovers, Jensen heard from Danneel that it had taken Chris and Steve two full days to detox, everyone seemed to get anxious about Collins & Sheppard again. No one knew exactly what Mr. Collins and his tall companion were doing; employees only reported them inspecting the whole production process. Mr. Collins seemed interested in practically every single step, listening attentively, and asking the right questions, Mr. Padalecki, on the other hand, dominated the meetings with accountants, department managers, and even representatives and distributors. Jensen had tried to pester his dad for more information, but all his father had said was: “That Padalecki guy knows what he´s doing, I can tell you that much. He´s analytic, unbiased and sticks to the hard facts.” For Jensen, it translated into cold, distant and unsympathetic. He wasn´t even sure why he had such a hard time giving the guy some credit, maybe their first, uncomfortable encounters had him a little biased still.   
If he was playing around with a new dark character for his graphic novel series, and this character happened to be tall, with longish hair and slanted eyes, and was all in all mysterious and ambiguous, sue him. No one could deny Padalecki was an inspiring figure, couldn´t they?  
So, the whole town seemed in a state of waiting for a decision that could easily be a verdict for them all. Jensen wouldn´t go as far as calling it a life or death sentence, like Chad did; but it sure would influence many of the families crucially.  
He sent fifteen more job applications out into the world, including more and more places far away enough that he´d have one hell of a daily commute, but what could you do about it, there simply weren´t enough jobs around anymore, or, you know , any at all. He went to his ‘keep my head above the water’ jobs, and hid in his room to work on his project.   
Mack was glued to her phone, more so than ever, and if Jensen noticed she was smiling a lot lately, he didn´t tease her about it, he was just that awesome a big brother.  
Everything seemed to calm down a little. Mr. Collins obviously took his sweet time examining every stone and interviewing every last employee of his company.  
Friday, five days after the Collins Ball, Jensen´s father came home from work late. He was quiet at dinner, which left everyone nervous. Jensen was tired, though, he´d started his shift at 5 am and gone to the bookstore directly from there, as they had expected a huge shipment for the afternoon. He´d unpacked a million books, approximately, and his arms and back ached from lifting, carrying and stacking them for hours. So he wasn´t really paying attention to the family dinner, caught in his, rather blank, mind.  
He only realized someone had called his name when Mack was hitting the back of his head with her dessert spoon.  
“Ouch! What...”  
“Jensen, I called your name twice.”  
“No, it was three times, Mom. You seem distracted, bro... Dreaming of Mr. Pa-”  
“None of your business, Sis,” he cut her off hastily. “Sorry, Mom, I´m kinda tired...”  
“It´s Okay, sweetie, we know you´ve had a long day. But listen, your father has good news! Tell him, Alan!”  
Jensen glanced at his father, who frowned down at his half eaten pie first, but looked up after a moment.   
“I got a call from an old colleague from college today. Haven´t heard from him in a while, but we used to do projects together once, especially when he started his own firm. He asked for advice, and I did the books for him for a few years, as accounting wasn´t really his strong side.” Alan took a sip of his water and went on. “His company eventually grew into a success, and he managed not to run it into the ground so far, on the contrary, He merged with two other high-rising business owners. Well, long speech short, he´s looking for new talent, as he called it. He´d heard about the, uhm, structural change here and the difficulties that come with it and he said he wanted to get his hands on the bright young people who wouldn´t be able to find adequate jobs around here anyway.”  
Jensen raised his eyebrows. “He would? Wow. So, uhm, where´s his company? What do they do?”  
Alan fidgeted with his spoon. “Well, it´s, uhm, one of them is in California, one in Florida, one in New York, I think. They are providing all-inclusive services for other companies, like promotion, advertising, managing public relations and social media, organizing events and fairs, you name it. They handle everything from legal issues to location scouting or whatever. There might be more, I´m not up to date, I´m afraid. As I said, we haven´t spoken in years. He became this big shot and I, well, I stayed who I´d always been.”  
Donna smiled at him fondly. “And we´re all glad about that, Dear!”  
Jensen grinned. His parents might have their small fights, but all in all, they did pretty well together, and weren´t ashamed of showing their affection for one another on occasion.  
“So, what you´re saying is....” he urged his father on.  
“He especially asked for you, uhm, I mean, for all of my kids, what y´all majored in and so on, about your jobs, the like. And, well, he wants to meet you, Jensen. He´ll be in town next week.”  
Jensen stared at his father. “You mean – he – he asked for me? For a job interview?”  
Alan shrugged. “Seems like it. Honestly, I was surprised he even remembered I had children. We didn´t ...it wasn´t like we were real friends. More like...colleagues, and we´d lost sight of each other over the years.”  
“Must be pretty desperate for employees if he comes to the middle of nowhere to interview you of all people, bro”, Mack grinned at him.  
“Mackenzie Ackles!” Mack ducked her head, but not before sticking her tongue out at Jensen.   
“Stop annoying your brother, Mackenzie. And let me tell you, if you behave like a child, I´ll not allow that trip you asked about!”  
“Mom!” Mackenzie´s face was pure teenage outrage.  
“Hush! You want to be treated like an adult, behave like one.”  
“But you said -”  
“What trip?”  
“- I could go if I did all my homework and -”  
“What trip!”  
“- if I promised to take all my meds and -”  
“Dad, what is she talking about?”  
“- I always do, and you know my grades are top, and now you´re just being -”  
“Dad?”  
“- mean because you didn´t want me to go in the first place and -”  
“Mom, what´s going on!”  
“- Jensen doesn´t mind anyway, I´m only like that with him cause he´s my brother, I can be a total lady if I want to, right, Jensen?”  
The sudden silence caught Jensen unprepared. Mack was staring at him, eyes wide, angry spots on her cheeks; his mom was glaring at Mackenzie, lips a thin line; and his dad still ogled his pie with a slightly pained frown on his face.  
“Jensen!”  
“I, uhm...yeah? She can?” He wasn´t exactly sure what had been asked of him, but it seemed better to be supportive right now.  
“See?” Mack turned her eyes on her mother triumphantly. “HE doesn´t care, and he can tell you how I behaved impeccably at the ball! Right? Jensen?”  
Jensen found his mother´s hard eyes on himself and immediately felt sweat prickling down his neck. It was like being all of eight years old again, with some mischief or the other weighing down his conscience.  
“Uhm, yeah, I mean – yes, of course. Why would she not? I mean, Mack´s always a lady once she leaves the house! Ouch!”  
Rubbing his side, he felt his sister´s glare on him like a laser.  
“See?”  
Donna sighed, her face relaxing a little. “I know. It´s just – I´m not really comfortable with this whole idea. Mr. Collins seems a nice and considerate enough young man, but what if you need anything?”  
“Mom, it´s ONE night!”  
“What are y´all talking about?”  
Jensen´s mother sighed again. “Apparently, Mack offered to show Mr. Collins the sights. You know, The Grand Cave and Inks Lake, the like. He hasn´t been there as a kid, it seems. Which is a shame, of course, the lake´s such a nice place! The peace and quiet up there- Alan, we haven´t been to the lake in ages! Remember how we used to take the kids there on the weekends? We had barbecue...” She seemed lost in her memories for a moment.   
Jensen´s dad smiled. “Yeah, good times. Remember when Jensen got stung by some insect and his butt cheek looked like a balloon? We couldn´t even pull his shorts over it. Had to-”  
“Ok, we get the picture,” Jensen hastily cut in. High time to change the subject.  
“So – Mack wants to go on a field trip with Collins? Can you even walk the park in a wheelchair?”  
“Apparently, they built wheelchair-friendly routes since we´ve been there last,” his mother nodded.  
“You can even make the Cave Tour now, Jensen! I´ve always wanted to go there!”  
Jensen raised his eyebrow at her. He was pretty sure he´d heard his sister gush more over the huge zip line close to The Cave than the cave system itself, on several occasions. She threw him a warning glare.  
“Yeah, I – sure. I know you do”, he added, always the loyal sibling. “So, when are you going?”  
“Don´t get too excited. We haven´t even said yes yet!”  
“Mom! You said -”  
“What I said, young lady, was that I´d talk to Mr. Collins about it. NO way am I letting the man drag you around dangerous places!”   
Jensen suppressed a chuckle. Knowing his sister, it would be the other way round, more likely.  
“And you´re staying the night?”  
“It´s too far to go there and back again in one day”, Mack said defiantly.  
“Alone? I mean, the two of you?” Jensen was surprised. Their parents had been pretty overprotective of their only daughter so far. This seemed like a huge step.  
“Of course not! There will be a whole group. Right?”  
“Yeah, uhm... I guess?” Mack´s face turned a pretty shade of pink. Her mother´s eyes narrowed. “Mackenzie?”  
His sister fumbled with her spoon a little. “I´d rather go with Misha alone. I like him, Mom!”  
Donna´s face softened. “Oh, sweetie, I know you do. But no way are you turning this into a – a date or something. It´s too soon, and it´s not appropriate. You´re still in school!”  
“I´m almost eighteen already!”  
“You are, and it doesn´t change anything! You are not going to spend a night with him alone!”  
“So now I need a chaperone? What is this, the middle ages?”  
“No, but this is a decent household, Missy, and you are not spending a night with the first young man who you happen to like!”  
Jensen´s head whipped back and forth between them. It was like watching a tennis game – with knives for balls. The following staring match between his sister and mother froze him, though. After thirty seconds – he could hear the grandfather clock tick them away in the living room – his sister harrumphed angrily.  
“Fine! Then we´ll take Jensen! I bet that Padalecki guy´ll come too!”  
His head whipped around so fast he felt something pull. “What? No! No way!”  
“Actually, that´s a great idea.”  
“No! It isn´t!” Jensen glared at his sister, who looked incredibly smug. “I´m not putting up with Padalecki just to play your babysitter!”  
“Jensen, manners! What in God´s name has the man ever done to you!”  
“He´s – I -” Jensen desperately looked for a good reason. “I just don´t like him! He´s – he´s so – so - rich!”  
His family´s incredulous eyes stared at him as if he were a madman.  
“Son, it´s not very fair to discriminate someone for being rich. You should know better than to judge the man like that. I know we raised you better.” It was his father´s stern voice.  
Mack huffed. “You´re such a snob!”  
“Seriously, Jensen, is it a crime now to be wealthy? No one says you have to be friends with him, just accompany your sister on this trip, be social and friendly for two days, don´t let her do anything stupid, and that´s it! I´d say it would do you some good to be around people other than Chris and Steve for once!”  
“What´s wrong with Chris and Steve!”  
His mother threw him a stern glance. “Nothing´s wrong with them, sweetheart, but we all know they are not always the best influence for you. All that music and motorcycles and what not. And they made you drink way too much on more than one occasion!”  
“What? They didn´t MAKE me drink anything, Mom, I - just – and that was in High School anyways! Ages ago!”  
“Jensen Ross Ackles, are you telling me you were DRUNK IN HIGH SCHOOL?”  
Jensen froze.   
Shit.  
“No , I mean...must have been college or something, I don´t... it´s been a long time ago, OK?”  
He could hear and feel Mackenzie have a great time right beside him. A few more minutes, and she would probably burst from suppressed laughing.  
“You were in very good spirits at the Collins Ball, the three of you. Jason, too. Very... entertaining.” Mack´s modest, innocent face could have fooled others. Jensen glared daggers at his sister though.  
“I have to work all week,” he snapped.  
“You can always swap shifts!”  
“Well, I don´t want to!”  
“Fine!”  
Mack rolled her wheelchair back with so much force its back hit the wall, turned it around with practiced, yet jerked, angry moves, and rolled down the hall to where her room´s door was. Her shoulders were so tense Jensen instinctively pulled his head in a fraction. When the door banged shut, he flinched.  
Dammit.  
He dared not look up at his parents for a whole while, until his father´s voice interrupted his intense inspection of the crumbs on his plate.  
“Jensen.”  
The sigh that accompanied his name said probably more than an elaborate speech could have. Jensen felt shame creep up his spine, all the way into his cheeks, hot and prickling and uncomfortable as hell.   
He shoved back his chair and got up, still not making eye contact with his parents.  
“I´ll fix it,” he murmured, mostly angry at himself, and maybe a little at fate, or whatever there was to blame for things being as they were, and more embarrassed with himself than he´d been in a long time.  
“Good,” was all he heard before walking down the corridor and knocking on his sister´s door.  
“Mack? Can I come in?”  
“No!” Her voice sounded suspiciously wet. Jensen cringed.  
“Come on, sis, let me fix this, OK?”  
“Go away! I don´t need you!”  
Jensen rubbed his hand down his face. “I´m sorry I´m such an asshole. Let me in, please?”  
He was painfully aware of his parents listening in from the dining room. The clock made itself heard again...tick...tock...tick...tock...  
“Mack?”   
After a moment, he heard a barely audible “Okay,” through the door.  
He found Mack sitting at the window, back to him, staring out of the window.  
Taking a deep breath, he walked over to her and crouched down at her side. “I´m sorry, Mack. I – I was being an insensitive douchebag. I´ll be happy to accompany you if you really wanna go.”  
“No, you´re not.” She was, obviously, still pissed. “And I hate that everyone just does stuff because I´m that poor sick girl, even you!”  
“That´s not – that´s not true, Mack. You´re fun to be around, for everyone!” He fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, not looking at her. “Well, I - I´m not really looking forward to spending two whole days with that Padalecki guy, but ... I DO enjoy spending time with you, and Collins seems good company. Besides, what kind of a big brother would I be if I left you hanging like that? No can do. You just took me by surprise, you know?”  
She huffed, but when he glanced over at her through his lashes, she saw a smile tug at her lips.   
“I – I really would love to make this trip, Jen. Misha´s... he´s a great guy, I like him a lot. He´s...he´s the first man who treats me just – normal, you know? When he looks at me, he sees ME, not the wheelchair or a, a patient. Plus he´s super funny. And so passionate! Did you know he has this incredible charity down in Haiti? He spends a lot of time and money there, building schools right with the people there. He´s really not stuck up, you´ll see!”  
Her eyes, when they met his, were bright, her cheeks flushed. She looked - happy, excited, and Jensen felt even more like a douche for having upset her before. There was also something glowing in her face, making it more beautiful than ever: a joy he hadn´t seen there before.  
So instead of teasing her for her fangirl speech, he smiled softly at her.   
“I think someone´s having an epic crush already here...”  
She blushed prettily. “So what! He´s...he´s perfect!”  
He grinned at her. “Sure seems like it, the way you talk about him.”  
“I´m not half as bad as you were when you had your Tony Stark phase! At least my crush is a real person, and I´ve actually talked to him!”  
Jensen felt his cheeks warm. “I was sixteen, Okay? And you know I´ve got a thing for nerdy guys. He´s like – the hot badass version of a super nerd! And Robert Downey´s damn sexy!”  
“No objections there, bro. Not as dreamy as my Misha, though.”  
“So it´s your Misha now? Wow, sis, you´ve got it bad, haven´t you?”  
She slapped his arm playfully, and just like that, they were back at their usual easy banter. Jensen promised to swap his shifts so they could leave first thing Tuesday morning; it would cost him his free Sunday, most likely, but hey – he took his big brother duties seriously, too seriously, according to Mack, most times.   
When he started yawning profusely, Mack threw him out. “Go get your beauty sleep, princess!” H  
He gave his parents a heads up and slowly dragged his feet upstairs.   
If he was 100% honest with himself, he might even look forward to the trip a little, if only to see his sister happy. Sure, he´d probably be stuck with Padalecki all the time, he had an inkling Mack and her Misha wouldn´t pay much attention to anything beyond their happy bubble, but it was two days. He could handle that. Douchebag or not, the guy was easy on the eyes. And man, he could dance.   
Plus, Jensen was as eager to try that zip line as Mack.

 

Of course, once he´d meticulously rearranged all the shifts at his various jobs, which was no easy task, all their planning was thrown by his dad´s so called college-colleague. When he called the man, Mr. Fuller only had time for his interview on Tuesday, obviously, being a busy man, heavily stressing that point on the phone, multiple times, but at least, he turned it into a lunch meeting, and at a pretty fancy place, too, so Jensen hadn´t swapped his precious Sunday for nothing. He felt bad for Mack, though, as they´d have to find a new date for the trip. Jensen secretly hoped that Mr. Padalecki would be gone by then, being the important family heir he was; he´d happily play the chaperone for Mack without having to entertain a brooding, rude version of America´s Most Wanted Bachelor.


	5. The Interview

Tuesday came fast. Jensen spent an hour between his built-in cupboard and the mirror, most of it trying to find the right tie – the one that would show his creativity, but also confirm that he was a serious, hard-working citizen with plenty of experience, yet young and happy to learn fast. This magic tie, however, was not to be found in his collection, nor in anyone else´s, probably, so he finally went with one that at least brought out his eyes, or so Danneel used to tell him.   
The place where Mr. Fuller had made the reservations was way above Jensen´s paygrade – not even a soup under 20 bucks - and it was, quite frankly, a little intimidating, what with all the waiters wearing black suits, long aprons and stern faces, and every table holding artfully arranged fresh flowers and twigs. Japanese style, Jensen guessed.   
He was early, he was that kind of guy, so he waited outside, trying not to pace too obviously.  
Soon enough, 10 minutes late, actually, a sleek black limousine, tinted windows, of course, stopped at the curb in front of the restaurant´s entrance, the back passenger door opened, and a man climbed out, turned and, on noticing Jensen, smiled broadly.  
It wasn´t a pleasant smile.   
“Jensen!”  
The man approached Jensen with long strides – he was quite tall, well built, maybe a little soft around the middle; his father´s age, but looking older, actually, maybe because of the balding head. His suit, though, looked impeccable, hand-tailored, and like it cost more than Jensen earned in a year.  
He reached out his hand. “Mr. Fuller, it´s a pleasure to meet you.”  
The other man looked at his hand, grabbed it, but instead of shaking it, used it to pull Jensen into a hug, clapping his back jovially.   
“No need to be so formal, Jensen! My friend´s children are like family! Call me Kurt!”  
Jensen felt uncomfortably pressed against the man´s body and wondered about the whole ‘friends’ part – as his father had insisted they hadn´t been more than work colleagues.  
“Uhm – sure. Pleasure to meet you, Kurt, then.” Fuller released him from his hug, but held him at arm’s length, much like an old aunt coming to visit at Thanksgiving, critically inspecting the family offspring.  
“You are even more gorgeous than I thought, my boy!”   
My BOY? What the actual f* ....  
“So, Jensen – excited? Have you done any job interviews so far? If so, I guess you didn’t have any luck, as you´re still available... my gain, I am sure!” He left his arm on Jensen´s shoulders and steered him through the restaurant´s entrance, where an officious head waiter was awaiting them. Jensen managed to slip out from under the other man´s arm. Mr. Fuller was quite clingy, it seemed; and while Jensen wasn´t exactly averse to bodily contact, he didn´t feel the need to have his personal space invaded by a stranger, thank you very much.  
The head waiter pompously guided them to their table, which was in a quiet niche of the restaurant, practically an alcove well out of the other tables´ sight. Candlelight illuminated the room, despite it being only 12.30, soft music was playing in the background, and the waiter who danced attendance upon them, or rather, upon Mr. Fuller, made Jensen feel like a schoolboy in a too short, cheap suit who better not open his mouth when not spoken to.  
They ordered – Jensen went with something he hoped was just steak – the waiter set some fancy beer in front of them, and after taking a long pull, Fuller leant back, eying Jensen with this too-sweet, predatory smile of his.  
“So, Jensen. Tell me about yourself. Don´t spare me any details!”  
Jensen fidgeted in his chair for a moment before clearing his throat. He´d studied his speech – The Ultimate Jensen Ackles Promotion – but something about this Fuller guy made the hairs on his neck rise, and he wasn´t sure he even wanted the job. On the other hand – it wasn´t like he got good job offers thrown at him on a daily basis. And their family´s financial situation was strained enough already.  
You don´t want to become another burden, do you? Suck it up and dive in!  
So he took a deep breath, put on his most winning smile, and started to sell his achievements, degrees and skills as best as he could. Even if he´d already done a few interviews during the last two years, it had never felt so... weird? Mr. Fuller´s intense stare – which contradicted his seemingly relaxed body language – felt like it went right through his clothes and skin inside his head and soul.   
He was usually pretty good at talking when he felt well prepared and managed to slip into a role, all the theater group hours in High School finally paying off, but he had difficulties focusing properly this time. Mr. Fuller´s smile never faltered, though, if anything, it got broader from time to time, it almost looked painful after a while, which all in all made him seem even creepier. Jensen was pretty sure he´d screwed the whole thing up big time, but Fuller just thanked him for the impressive presentation, took the folder Jensen had put together, containing his portfolio and what not, leafed through it superficially and put it aside. The little frown on his face looked almost out of place after all the excessive smiling.  
“I won´t lie to you, Jensen, we do have a whole bunch of candidates for this post I´m offering, who´ve gone to more prestigious colleges and have already gained more experience in this line of work than you.”   
Well, that´s easy, as I have none at all, Jensen thought.  
“But,” Fuller leaned forward, his cold blue eyes piercing, the predatory grin back in place. “You´re young and eager, as far as I can tell, ready to put in a load of work and enthusiasm to fit the job. You´ll learn fast, and you´ll have to, otherwise....” His smile became cool all of a sudden, “I´d be very disappointed. I´ve come to expect only the best from Alan, and by reaching out to you, I am showing my gratitude for the work he helped me with when we were both your age. I expect the same from you, and more, as this will be a huge opportunity for someone as inexperienced as yourself. I take a huge risk, of course, offering you this job, but, what can I say – sometimes I feel a little nostalgic, and it puts me into a charitable mood.” He sounded more than a little condescending, but, Fuller was right, after all.  
“When I say I´m expecting more from you, Jensen, I mean – everything. Everything you´ve got to give, and some. No slacking, no weekends, no holiday, at least for the first year. I´m talking at least sixty to eighty hours a week, sometimes more, depending on the projects. My clients are very demanding and critical, and so am I.” He licked his lips.  
“Of course, I´d expect even more from you in return for this offer than from any other candidate, just to be clear about it. If you fit in – well, then in a short ten years, you could lead your own team. Maybe pull in your own high-profile client. But let´s not get ahead of ourselves, right? It´s a lot to take in, I know. Here´s the exact job description and a portfolio showing you exactly what kind of service we are providing, who our clients have been so far, corporate identity, social responsibility cra- stuff, you know the drill.”   
Jensen didn´t, really, but tried to look nonchalant about it.  
Fuller´s smile widened. “And, one of the most interesting aspects, maybe – the salary and benefits we're offering. I guess that's a point of interest for you, given your family's general.... situation.”   
Jensen bristled a little, but managed to turn it into a noncommittal shrug.  
With that, Fuller clapped his hands together and got up unexpectedly fast from his chair.  
“Well, Jensen, it was a pleasure to have you here. Go through the material. You've got two days! Shouldn't be such a hard decision though, right?” He winked conspiratorially.  
Jensen clambered to his feet. „Uhh – two days? I...”  
Fuller wriggled his finger at him admonishingly with a smirk. “Well, Jensen, offers like that are not something you want to miss, and they sure as hell aren’t on the market for the weak or indecisive. You want it, you earn it, am I right?” His arm was once more wrapped around Jensen´s shoulder. Fuller steered them to the door, where the maître d´ bowed and murmured his submissive good byes, and outside. Fuller’s hand slipped lower and lower on Jensen´s back, until it definitely lay right above his ass cheek when they left the restaurant, gently pushing him down the two steps.  
Fuller´s limousine was already waiting, the driver ready to open the door for his boss.  
“Well, I look forward to hearing from you, Jensen...” Fuller nodded at him, winked, and got into his limousine. “Don't forget - once in a lifetime chance! Just saying!” The driver closed the door, nodding at Jensen, too.  
Jensen just stood on the sidewalk, watching the car pull away and melt into traffic.   
He'd walked to the restaurant, as he'd covered the early morning shift at Rick´s Cafe, having swapped with one of his coworkers, and it was only a fifteen minute walk from there. He'd planned on taking the bus home - his shift at the bookstore didn't start before 5pm, and he'd need a car to get back home later. Now, though, he decided to walk home, even if it would take him about an hour; the meeting with Mr. Fuller certainly gave him something to think about.  
First of all, there was the man himself. Jensen couldn't help it, the guy rubbed him the wrong way, had done so from the moment he'd laid eyes on him the first time. Something was off about him, his exaggerated smile, the condescending behavior against those he deemed his inferior, the overly confident way he spoke about his own achievements. He seemed like a pretty unpleasant kind of boss, all in all.  
But there was more... Jensen couldn't exactly name it, but he'd simply felt uncomfortable in the guy's company. The piercing stare, the constant touches, the fake joviality... being called ‘my boy’, hell, the guy seemed like a veritable douchebag. His gut told him to steer clear from the man, plain and simple.  
But Jensen was not one to make decisions based on instincts and gut-feelings alone. So he used the time it took him to get from the fancy part of town to the old outskirts where his parents had been living ever since Mack had been born, used it to ponder what he'd heard, and read, leafing through the information Fuller had given him.  
The job would be an interesting one, that was for sure. The kind of a-z promotional work one could only dream of, at least once you'd passed the ‘newbie of the company’” stage, he guessed. On the other hand, Fuller had proudly presented the list of clients his company kept happy, and honestly, it was like a blacklist of companies that stood against everything Jensen believed in. He might be an over-idealistic, naive idiot for thinking that way, but, well, he just didn´t want to promote companies which destroyed nature, lived off peoples´ illnesses and accidents, or made money with barely legal financing practices. They all were crazy successful, sure, but they left a lot of collateral damage and roadkill behind, and Jensen wasn't okay with that. He was still young enough to have a conscience, dammit!  
Question was: Could he afford to have a conscience?   
By the time he arrived at his parents´ house, a frown had settled on his face. What should he do? Ignore his instincts and give it at least a try? Would he be able to look himself in the mirror once he'd given his best for the wrong causes? On the other hand, would he be able to look himself in the mirror when he declined, and his family's financial situation got worse because his father lost his job, or Mack needed some special treatment. What would it be like to know he could have paid for some new therapy that could improve her health immensely but he blew that chance because of his feelings?  
No way. Fuller might be a creep, he'd practically sell his soul to the devil, but in the end, it was an economical decision, wasn't it? Still, he had two days, and he'd make use of them. He needed someone to follow his musings, and the conclusions he'd come up with. Someone to question and approve, or dismiss, his decisions.  
So, of course, he called Danneel.


	6. Decisions

By Wednesday evening it was clear that he´d need to talk to his parents. Danneel had been supportive, of course, she had, but almost too much so, she´d pretty much repeated his own doubts to him once he´d presented the facts to her. She had, however, also stressed out the fact that jobs like that didn´t fall from heaven in general, much less in their part of the state. Or at all.  
“You'll have to make that decision one day, Jensen. Staying here with your family and probably never work the kind of job you've on the plate here. Or leaving. Building your own life. People do it all the time, you know?” She'd smiled a little sadly. “Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled our gang here still sticks together, and you've been my best friend since, like, forever. I´ll be the first to throw a huge-ass party if, or when, all of us get decent jobs around here. And I don't mean working at a coffee shop or dusting files at a law firm and doing the occasional leaflet, Jensen.” She twirled a strand of her long hair between her fingers, something Jensen had seen her doing for years whenever she was thinking something over.  
“Lately I´m... I don't know. What if Collins & Sheppard really closes? Half of the families here depend on those jobs. Heck, my mom's worked there for ages, and your dad, Steve's brother...everyone has someone in there! Once these jobs are gone, everything will change here, Jensen. Sure, we've got our shiny degree and everything, but how will we ever need it here? Put to good use what we learned? What we worked so hard for?”  
Jensen was struck speechless. He hadn't seen Danneel so down since high school, and that had been about a boy. She was usually such a fierce fighter, strong-minded and fearless.   
“Danny...” he said, but she shook her head and pulled herself visibly together.  
“I'm trying to be realistic, Jensen. The whole county here is on the decline, economically, has been for decades, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. Collin's evaluation may or may not turn out in our favor, but it´s still only one company... the logical choice would be to go where the jobs are, right?”  
“Aren't you scared of leaving?”  
She shrugged. “To be honest, I'm more scared of staying too long, and missing the opportunity to start something elsewhere. We're not getting younger here, Jensen, and it´s already been two years trying to make ends meet with jobs we wouldn't need any qualification for.”  
“Come on, Danni, we're not even twenty-five yet. There's still time.”  
“Is there? I'm not so sure anymore. There's new people spilling out of universities every year, while we pass our days serving coffee.”   
Jensen rubbed his front. “So...you're saying I should take the job?”  
“I'm saying – I don't know. So maybe the boss is a douche. Half the people have asshats for bosses I guess? Maybe it´s worth a shot?”  
“I don't know, Danni, the guy was just...he gave me the jitters. Pompous and so full of himself, and the way he – ugh.” Jensen shook his shoulders like a wet dog.   
Danni grinned, pushing his side playfully.  
“Come on. He can't be that bad.”  
“He totally was! All the time, I felt like – like he ogled me like the prize bull on the cattle market or something! And why would he even be interested in me? I've got no experience! None!”  
Danni rolled her eyes. “Well, Jen, I hate to tell you this, but a), you're not exactly hard to look at. Maybe Mr. Pompous Asshat has a weak spot for young innocent males, and b) -”  
Jensen interrupted her. “He's married. At least that's what my father told me.”  
“Doesn't prove a thing. So he's in the closet! It happens, you know? What I was going to say: b) Don't sell yourself short! You graduated best of your class, you have a fuckton of extracurriculars in your portfolio, and every employer is lucky to have you.”  
Jensen blushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm...thanks?”  
She huffed. “I'm only pointing out the obvious.”  
Jensen fiddled with a pencil he'd pulled from his breast pocket. It was sharped down to a tiny stump and showed tooth marks where he'd repeatedly bitten down on one end.  
“It feels like selling my soul to the devil” he finally mumbled, not looking up.  
Danneel sighed. “I know...” She took the pencil out of his hands with a frown.  
“I'm sorry I'm not more of a help here, Jen.”  
She eyed the tiny pencil critically. “I can however help you getting rid of this disgusting thing.” Jensen grabbed her already raised arm, wrangling the pencil out of her fingers before she could throw it in the direction of her waste basket.  
“That's my lucky pencil! Don't you dare throw it away!” he pouted, stuffing the little thing back into his pocket and pressing his hand over it in a dramatic gesture.  
Danneel sniggered. “You're such a dork sometimes. Guess you'll have to ask your lucky pencil for advise then.”  
Jensen snorted. “You're a dork yourself. Or have you thrown out your Magic Shoes yet?”  
Danneel boxed his arm, glaring at him indignantly.  
“No, I did not! Want to know why?” She began ticking off points with her fingers. “First of all, they WORK. All those high school trophies my mom is showcasing in her living room are proof of that. Remember the one time I wore the white ones instead, and slipped right before the `Dirty Dancing´- lift, taking you down with me?”   
Jensen groaned. Oh yes, he remembered that dancing contest quite well.   
Danneel sent him a, “See? Told you!” look, and went on. “Second, they cost me an apple of an eye back in the day, and I'm not giving up on them before they fall apart! They still even look presentable! And third -” she stopped, fingers raised, a frown on her face. Then she shrugged. “Actually, I don't have a third point. But the first two are proof enough, aren't they?”  
Jensen grinned at her. “If you say so....”  
“You bet I say so!” she punched his arm once more, a little harder this time.  
“Ouch! Stop punching me! Here I come, humbly asking for advice, and get beaten up instead! What's wrong with this world!” Jensen exclaimed, dramatically wringing his hands, his eyes cast heavenwards.  
“Drama queen”, Danneel muttered drily.   
Jensen sighed. “This drama queen has to make a decision.” He got up. “Thanks, Danni. Guess I´ll have to weigh the facts and all that for another night.”  
Danneel hugged him at the door.  
“I'm sorry, Jensen. We knew this day would come eventually, didn't we? And I wish this Mr. Fuller were someone nice who ran an environmentally and socially aware company, and your decision would be an easy one.... but this is the real world, after all, so...”  
“I know”, Jensen sighed, hugging her back. “Thanks for listening, though.”  
“Let me know when you've decided what to do?”  
Jensen rolled his eyes. “When have I ever not shared anything with you, woman?”  
Danneel smirked. “When have I ever let you get away with not sharing, you mean?”  
“Exactly,” Jensen grumbled. “You're like a blood hound when it comes to secrets or, you know, just any information.”  
“And you're easy prey, sweetie,” Danneel answered, patting his cheek.   
“Don't I know it,” Jensen sighed, walking down the driveway and waving at her from the sidewalk.

 

In the end, after all his reasoning, weighing the facts about the job and exploring his soul to get to the bottom of his dislike of Mr. Fuller, he finally went to talk to his dad.


	7. Chapter 7

He'd said no.  
He had actually declined a shiny, prestigious, promising job offer and the not too shabby salary that went with it.  
Jensen sat on the old swing dangling from the big cottonwood tree that shaded good part of their back yard.  
He'd been doing that a lot, since being a small child – either he climbed the tree to think, daydream, or live exciting adventures in his head; or he swung backwards and forwards for hours at a time, watching the rays of the sun wander over their garden, observing birds, insects and small animals, sometimes thinking in circles, sometimes not thinking at all.  
Days had passed since his decision; he didn't regret it, not really – Fuller had just seemed too creepy, too eager, to make Jensen feel comfortable. His father had, luckily, supported him. Jensen got the impression – although his dad never said anything out loud – that he was a little mystified by his former colleague's interest, and not in a good way. His mom, though, was a different story. She'd not been happy to hear about his decision to decline the offer, and only after having been nagging at him for two days to, “Reconsider taking this wonderful chance to show what you're capable of, Jensen,” had she suddenly stopped. Jensen had an inkling that his father was behind it, maybe he'd finally told her about Jensen´s bad feeling about Fuller, something Jensen himself hadn't told her.  
So now, they were back to normal... almost.   
Collins and his ever present shadow, Padalecki were still diligently turning over every proverbial stone at the company. Rumors went nuts now and then, spreading fast through the very analog social network their town still provided. When none of them seemed to come true, and the main players were still refusing to answer any questions concerning the company's future before the whole evaluation process has been diligently followed through, they died down time and again – only to be replaced by a new one.   
Mr. Collins stayed in town the whole time, being busy with whatever the ‘evaluation process’ included. Padalecki, though, seemed to leave and return on a regular basis, probably using shiny limos and private jets or whatnot.   
Jensen had a hard time fighting his imagination that sent him vibrant pictures of a Jared Padalecki in shirt sleeves, spread lazily in a sleek 60s-style stuffed chair in his private plane, sipping $1000 whisky, slowly pulling at his iridescent tie while staring through hooded eyes at – nope. He wasn't going there. AGAIN. This was not an old James Bond movie, and Jensen sure as hell was NOT the alluring, yet somehow innocent, while impressively skilled Bond Girl wearing a flight attendant's uniform tailored to his body.   
(No!)  
Mack kept smiling into her phone a lot, and Jensen could hear her hushed, but always excited and happy voice through her room's door on more than one occasion. As she was also laughing more, and more joyous than he'd seen for a long time, which he assumed was Mr. Collin's doing, he was glad the guy took his task so seriously. He had hinted on having to finalize the assessment within the following two weeks, though, which left Jensen a little preoccupied for his sister. Well- there was always Skype, WhatsApp, snapchat and a million other electronic ways to stay in contact nowadays, weren't there? Even good old snail-mail, for the more romantic among them, and Jensen had a feeling Collins was just the type who'd send poems written on hand-crafted, thick, cream-colored paper, maybe even adding a dried flower.  
Mack had managed to set a new date for the field trip, although it had been confined to one single day due to the tight schedule Mr. Collins had to stick to. As their mom insisted on sending a chaperone, AKA Jensen, with them, and at Mack's protests, had threatened to accompany them herself, he'd once more cleared a day of all his jobs. He was rather relieved when he got informed that unfortunately, Mr. Padalecki wouldn't be able to come along due to his manifold duties as the important citizen he was. Relieved, yet a tiny bit disappointed, too, which, of course, Jensen didn't even admit to himself.  
The trip, though, turned out a real success. They did visit The Cave, strolled through the vast park area around it where Collins showed impressive strength and stamina, pushing Mack's wheelchair for hours, and then simply carrying her up a rocky hill where the chair wouldn't work anymore, just so they could enjoy the wonderful view from above. Jensen was out of breath just dragging himself uphill, while Collins didn't even break a sweat, which led to a lot of teasing by Mack, and his internal vow to start his running routine again, crazy job schedule be damned!   
The view was totally worth it, though, Collins seemed delighted by everything he was shown and, Jensen had to admit, he was really good company, attentive, open-minded and good-humored, yet showing a sharp mind and wit and a good deal of snarky humor that equaled Mack's perfectly. If his enthusiasm went overboard from time to time, it was a flaw Jensen could live with – the guy was at least thrilled by the right kind of things, certain bald-headed, self-important, grabby company owners excepted. The best part though about spending time with both Collins and his sister was to see how much they cared about each other. Mack practically beamed the whole day, and whenever Jensen caught Collins looking at her, he couldn't help but see the word ‘love-struck’ in big, fat, illuminated letters sparkling in his head.  
So it was no wonder both Mack and himself returned home in good spirits after having decided to store all the pictures of Mack's flight on the zip-line in a folder labelled math homework, thus securing it from a prying parental eyes. As they'd had dinner at a famous steakhouse outside of town, they returned pretty late; Mack looked tired despite all the excitement bubbling inside her, and Jensen felt like he could just fall asleep on the spot. They said good night to their parents, shared a last, conspiratory wink, and went to their rooms. Well, Jensen mused while brushing his teeth meticulously, who'd have thought that being a chaperone could be such a pleasant experience!  
Of course, all that bliss didn't last forever.   
It didn't even survive the week, as it turned out.


	8. Chapter 8

The morning after returning from their trip, Jensen found himself once more on an early shift at Rick's Cafe. His coworker, Andy, had called in sick, so Jensen had to play the roles of both barista and waiter to the guests who actually took the time to sit down at a table and enjoy their coffee together with the newspaper.   
At this early hour, there usually were only two of them, grumpy old Mr. Devereaux, who never came in without his spy glass, and Mrs. Moseley, a grandmotherly woman Jensen equally adored and feared as she usually didn't hold back her opinions. For about an hour, he barely found the time to cheer people up with his usual friendly small talk, something he liked doing, when people already had to get to work at an ungodly hour, they sure deserved a smile to go with their caffeine. When the first rush slowly died down to a slow trickle of customers, he finally got to have his own coffee and one of the delicious pastries Sarah from Sweet Heaven delivered every morning.   
He had just refilled Mr. Devereaux´s cup, brought Mrs. Moseley a glass of water and was swiping down the enormous coffee machine, “I want it shiny like Elvis´ Cadillac, boys. No greasy fingerprints, no flecks of milk foam, no speck of dust. Got it?” Richard, their boss, had one big love, Elvis, but this coffee machine, imported directly from Italy by Rich himself, came pretty close.  
The bells jingled merrily, announcing a new customer. Jensen got up from under the counter, where he'd stowed away the special wipes reserved for the precious machine, only to come face to face with a pair of light blue eyes.  
Funny enough, the first thing that came into his mind was, “Not as blue as Mr. Collin's”. Jensen took in the stranger's overall appearance, tall and handsome, although, Jensen couldn't help thinking, not quite as tall as one Mr. Padalecki. Dark, somewhat wavy hair that looked effortlessly perfect, and wide, full lips that slowly pulled into a grin while Jensen was staring. Which Jensen became aware of just then, feeling heat crawl up his neck and cheeks. Great. A new customer, and a gorgeous one at that, and he stood there like the picture of a dumb country bumpkin.   
“Uhm..” he cleared his throat, “Can I help you?” Tall & Handsome´s grin got even wider, and there was definitely an amused sparkle in his eyes. Jensen wanted to bang his head against the counter. Or be swallowed by the floor. Where are the forces of nature when you need them?   
“You mean, besides making my day already 1000% better?” the stranger asked, winking at Jensen.  
Jensen just stared at him, mortified. “Uhm, yes? I mean-” oh, God, he needed an earthquake RIGHT NOW! “Would you like some coffee, sir?” OK. He'd made it back to meaningful, appropriate sentences.  
“Please, call me Tom.” The stranger grinned and reached his hand over the counter. Jensen took it, his body on autopilot, and shook it. After a few seconds, the corners of Tom's eyes started to crinkle. “And you might be…?”  
“Oh!” Jensen bit his bottom lip. ”I'm Jensen.” At the same moment, he realized he was still shaking the stranger's - no, Tom's - hand, and let go of it immediately. He could feel the blush up to the tips of his ears by now.   
“Well, Jensen,” Jensen couldn't help but stare at the man's lips saying his name, and man, the guy was savoring every syllable like it was some delicious candy. “A coffee would be great. Actually-“ he looked at the huge, hand written board behind Jensen. “I think I´ll take a hazelnut cappuccino with extra foam.”  
“Small, medium or big?” OK. he could do this.   
“Big, please.”  
“To go?”  
Tall & Handsome smiled brightly. “I think I´ve just decided to stay in here for a while.” He winked at Jensen again. “The atmosphere is just so...welcoming?”  
“Wonderful,” Jensen stammered. “Would you like one of our pastries with your coffee? They’re made locally and absolutely delicious.”  
Tom stared right at him. “Thanks, but I think I have enough deliciousness on my plate as it is. Don't wanna overdue it, right?” With that, and another wink, he turned away and strolled over to one of the window tables, blocking Mr. Devereaux´ view, which pretty much came close to a sacrilege, and elegantly sprawled in one of the chairs, looking around the cafe like he owned it.  
Jensen was glad he could turn around and give his hands something to do. It was probably a good thing they knew how to do their job without his brain's collaboration, as it seemed frozen, frizzed, or dissolved in a cocktail of unexpected hormones. Damnit. The hottest guy he'd seen in town since, well, since Padalecki, came right to his counter, overtly flirting with him, and all Jensen could manage was giving a horrible Forrest Gump impression. No, more like Dumb and Dumber 2.1.   
At least he was able to serve one big hazelnut cappuccino without accidents or stammering.  
Thank God for small mercies.  
Once he'd put the huge cup on the table, smiling at the guy, he made his rounds with the coffee pot once more, earning a dark glare from Mr. Devereaux and a hissed, “If he doesn't move his big head out of my way soon, I´ll make him.” And a knowing, slightly amused look from Mrs. Moseley, who sweetly thanked him for the coffee with her bird-like voice, making him blush again.  
Jensen was about to get back behind the counter, when he caught Tom, the new customer, waving lazily at him. He hurried over, for once managing a professional smile without blushing like a virgin.  
“What can I do for you?”, he asked.  
“Oh, I can think of a whole lot of things you could do for me, Jensen…” The guy shamelessly grinned up into Jensen´s already reddening face. “But for now, I think I´ll have one of your delicious pastries after all.”  
Jensen cleared his throat. “Which one can I bring you? Would you like to have a look at the display?”  
Tom winked at him once more. “Oh, I'm confident you'll get me exactly what I need… surprise me!”  
Jensen nodded, not trusting his voice, and fled to the counter, fiddling with a plate and the silver pastry tongs. The guy was unbelievable. Kinda annoying. And hot. And a shameless flirt. Plus - hot. But, well - Jensen hadn't really flirted much since graduating from college, the town wasn't exactly littered with gay clubs, and his closest thing to a love life was having inappropriate thoughts about one tall and haughty Texan oil prince and some lonely action inside the heavily locked bathroom going with it.  
It felt nice to be flirted with. To be stared at across a room, to feel eyes on his back (and ass, most likely) when moving around, to be the object of shameless innuendos. So, when his first shock had finally passed, and he'd thrown a few glances at the annoyingly handsome young man while choosing the pastry for him - always finding him staring right back, eyebrows slightly raised -, he was able to deliver the breakfast with a wide smile , saying, “I think you'll love these. Mini pies, made with an unbelievably luscious crust, filled with a cream that'll make your taste buds explode.” He put the plate down in front of Tom with a wink of his own. “Be careful of your pants, though. They could get…. spoiled.”   
After he'd taken care of a swarm of blushing high schoolers, watching them put their giggling heads together outside, something that happened on a regular basis, he found himself once more in front of his flirty new customer when he turned around.   
“Fan club of yours?”   
Jensen rubbed his neck. “Uhm. Well. Just regulars, y´know?”  
“I can see why, believe me.” He shot Jensen a toothy grin. “The coffee's perfect. And the pastries… orgasmic, really.”  
“I'm sure Sarah will be thrilled to hear that.” Jensen shamelessly grinned back. He really started enjoying this.  
“So,” Tom fiddled with his wallet, “As I'm new in town and all that. You wouldn't know somewhere nice I can take you tonight, Jensen?”  
The guy sure didn't take prisoners. Jensen found that he liked it.  
“What makes you think I´d let you take me out?”  
Tom licked his lips, the sparkle back in his eyes. “What makes you think I´ll give you a choice?”  
At that, Jensen couldn't suppress a chuckle. “You're unbelievable.”  
“So I've been told…” Tom leaned forward, arms on the counter, almost purring now.  
“Come on, Jensen… just a nice evening, having a few beers, getting to know each other? What else is there to do in a shithole town like this one!”  
“Hey!” Jensen might complain about his hometown regularly, but that didn't  mean he'd take insults against it from strangers.  
“What?” Tom said, his face a picture of innocence. “I'm pretty sure you don't have one single, decent club down here..”  
“Purgatory!”, Jensen blurted out.   
Tom raised a questioning brow. “That bad, huh! The town actually does look hell-adjacent…”  
Jensen scowled. “No, it´s - it´s the name of the biggest club here!”  
The grin he got in return was blinding. “Great! Meet you there at 9? Drinks are on me!”  
Jensen sighed. He'd run into that one straight on. But Tom's bright eyes were staring into his expectantly, the promise of fun and much needed distraction in them. There was also something hungry lurking in them, something that made Jensen´s lower regions tingle pleasantly.   
“I have a late shift at the book store today, won't be out before ten.”  
“Ok! I´ll pick you up there, then! Just give me the address!” He'd already pulled out his phone, thumbs poised over the screen.  
“Uhm… Lancaster Drive 334. A blue front, red door?”  
“Perfect.” Tom pocketed his phone again, a smug grin on his face. “That wasn't so difficult now, was it?” Jensen rolled his eyes again, mostly to distract from the fact that he was blushing again. He'd definitely been out of the game for way too long.  
Tom finally pulled a few bills out of his wallet, brushing Jensen´s fingers when reaching them over the counter. “See you tonight...”  
“Yeah…”.   
He watched the other man open the door to his rental, a gorgeous black Mustang, waving back when Tom raised his hand once more.  
Wow. He'd just agreed on going on a date with a complete stranger. A nervous giggle escaped his lips. Damn - that sure was a first. He'd always been a little old fashioned, Danneel called him a hopeless romantic, missing out on all the fun that came “without the relationship crap,” as she called it.  
He was almost glad Mr. Devereaux chose that moment to wave his empty cup at him, grumbling, “When you're done flirting with preposterous assholes and pull your head out of the clouds, how about you get me my refill, boy!”


	9. An Eventful Evening

It wasn't until a quarter to ten that Jensen realized he'd have to go to the club in his work clothes, the ones he'd been wearing since 5am. Sure, he'd chosen a nice light blue shirt, expecting to be serving customers all day, but as he'd once again mostly been slaving in the bookstore's storage room, packing, unpacking, cataloguing, categorizing and labeling books, the shirt had lost its crisp state somewhere around six. Great. His first date in forever, his first visit to one of the clubs in... well, forever, too - and he looked like Bob the Builder minus the hard hat. Maybe he should bring the bookstore's hammer and screwdriver and go for the “hot construction worker”- look?  
Well, nothing he could do about it. He slipped into the bathroom five minutes to ten, sniffed his armpits, decided to nick some of Lisa's, the other employee's, cheap deodorant, and went to close up the store.   
The street outside was quiet. Most of the small stores closed at nine; only Sharif two stores down kept his grocery shop open until midnight. It wasn't the fancy kind of neighborhood.  
Standing in front of the dark shop window, Jensen had enough time to get nervous.  
His stomach growled. He longingly eyed the warm yellow light brightening up the sidewalk in front of Sharif's. Only a sandwich for lunch, and his break skipped in order to manage the load of work and to be able to finish everything on time and leave punctually, had him pretty much starving. Well, it seemed like he'd starved himself for nothing, as Tom still was a now-show at ten minutes past ten.  
He was already considering his chances of catching the last bus home by sprinting down six blocks, when he heard the tell-tale growl of a big engine being put to good use getting closer.  
Half a minute later, the black Mustang came to a screeching halt right in front of him, the door being pushed open almost before the car had stopped completely.    
“I'm sorry!”  
Tom darted out of the car, pressing his hands against his heart in an exaggerated gesture. “SO, so sorry!”  
Jensen had been turning around words in his head for 15 minutes, intent on chewing Tom out - but Tom's remorseful face made him laugh instead. He shook his head.  
“You know, I was just giving up on you….” He didn't add his thoughts about assholes who got off on standing people up. Obviously, Tom had his reasons for being that late.  
“I know, I know - this is inexcusable, and horrible, and did I mention I'm so, so sorry?” Tom actually sank to his knees in front of Jensen, making big puppy eyes at him. “How can I make it up to you, oh wonderful, Jensen, King of Coffee?”  
Jensen huffed. “Tab's on you tonight, I´d say. And now get up and take me to the club before I change my mind!”  
“Your wish is my command!” Tom answered, humbly bowing his head. He led Jensen to the passenger door, opening it for him and closing it with a flourish once Jensen was seated.

 

They arrived at Purgatory after a short drive, Tom explaining how he'd been held up by a video call from his boss, who liked to make him slave day and night, “You can't even imagine!” Although the line outside the black doors was huge, Tom took Jensen´s arm and pulled him right to the front. The massive doorman squinted his eyes at them, but then only nodded, and let them both pass to the protests of those still waiting.  
“How - how did you do that?” Jensen was puzzled. He'd expected to be standing outside for at least an hour.  
“Ah, you know...connections….” Tom winked at him. “So - I don't know about you, but I really, really need a drink now. Or five. Or ten.”  
They ended up at the bar, and after the first beer, Tom insisted on making Jensen try all the fancy drinks he'd always avoided - they usually were too expensive, too sweet, and too colorful for his taste. He found out that he got used to the sweetness, though, after the first two; and as he hadn't eaten much all day, all that sugar was a welcome way to distract his empty stomach.   
It was, unfortunately, also a perfect way to getting tipsy in no time at all. Things got a little blurry pretty soon. Tom kept the drinks coming, coaxing Jensen into talking more than he'd probably talked in months, asking about his family, his jobs, his friends and hobbies, all the time listening attentively, head close to Jensen´s to be able to hear him over the music. At some point, his hand had ended up on Jensen´s thigh, stroking up and down slowly. Jensen felt hot. His pants had grown uncomfortably tight.  
“You wanna dance?” he asked, already gliding off the high bar stool. Tom smiled widely, catching Jensen, who felt the room inexplicably moving around him a little.   
“Thought you'd never ask, hot stuff,” he purred right into his ear, one hand wandering down Jensen´s back right to his ass.   
They squeezed through the crowd, finally stumbling onto the packed dance floor. The music was deafening, reverberating inside Jensen, echoing through  his whole body, head to toes. It was like being filled with sound and energy, people were only blurry, colorful  shadows around him, a moving, pulsing mass. He started moving with them, hips swaying, arms raised high, undulating and jerking with the heavy bass and rhythm. He felt Tom right behind him, pressed to his back, moving in sync, rubbing against Jensen, one hand gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.  
Jensen closed his eyes. The beams of light rotating over the dancers left reddish flashes on his retinas, leaving him disorientated. He felt Tom's body heat, people pressing in against them from everywhere, and suddenly it was too much. A wave of nausea rolled through him, he stumbled, and if Tom hadn’t been glued to him, he'd have fallen in between the bodies moving around them.  
“You OK?”  
“Not...not feeling too good.” He had no idea if Tom had heard him, the music was earsplitting, but either he'd read Jensen´s lips or his face showed exactly how he was feeling. He saw Tom's lips move, but as everything was spinning wildly around him, he couldn't really concentrate on what he was saying or asking. It didn't matter, though, as the other man pulled him against his shoulders and started moving them towards the back of the hall where the toilets and the stairwell to the private rooms were situated.   
Jensen was jostled left and right, all the while trying to keep down the bile that was burning his throat; the lights were too bright, the music too loud, the air too heavy and thick with sweat. He just closed his eyes, letting himself be shoved and pushed through the crowd by Tom.  
When they had finally pulled free from the mass of bodies, and Tom had pushed them down a long hall and through a swinging door to the bathrooms, where the music was reduced to  a rumbling staccato, it was a small relief.  
Tom opened one of the stalls, shoved Jensen in a little awkwardly - it wasn't exactly built to accommodate two grown men - and squeezed out again.  
“Uhm... I´ll wait outside?”  
Jensen stared at the blurry patch that was Tom's face, waving some sort of  affirmative gesture, or so he thought. The moment Tom pulled away his supportive arms, he sank down to his knees, facing the porcelain throne in front of him. Well, great. He hadn't enjoyed this POV since High School. Maybe college? No, he'd been more careful, or just less dumb then. His thoughts were just as blurry as his vision, and it kinda hurt to think too much; but the issue soon was solved, in a way, by his body's need to get rid of all those fancy drinks ASAP.  
He felt slightly better afterwards. Getting up to a standing position was a challenge, though, and when he'd left the stall, washed his face and cleansed his mouth, ugh, he remembered THAT taste, he went in search of Tom. He found him at the end of the hall, watching the dancing crowd through the glass sliding doors, body jerking with the heavy rhythm. He turned around when Jensen tapped his shoulder.  
“Better?” Tom had to shout to be heard when the gliding doors to the dance floor opened and a pair of sweaty, giggling young women stumbled through. At least Jensen was able to focus on his face again. He shrugged, not feeling the energy to shout back his answer.  
“You up to go back in?”  
Definitely not. He shook his head, regretted it immediately, and reached out to stabilize himself against the wall.  
“I wanna go home…” he mumbled, not caring that he sounded like a child. Tom turned, sending a longing gaze at the dance floor to their right, then shrugged.  
“Didn't peg you as such a lightweight. Want me to call you a cab?”  
Huh. A cab. Jensen´s sluggish thoughts tried to tell him there was something wrong with that, but he couldn't make sense of it.  
“Yeah…..”  
“Jensen?”  
He started at the voice calling out at him, jerking up his head, losing his balance again. Tom's arm shot out and grabbed him in time. Jensen squinted at the tall man who came down the last stairs of the stairwell right in front of them at the other end of the hallway. He closed in on them with long strides, stopping abruptly though a few feet away.   
“Jared?” Jensen murmured. “What´cha doing here?” His mouth wasn't too cooperative, as something kept his lips from forming the consonants. Focusing on the man's face, Jensen realized Jared was staring at Tom with a hard glare.  
“Yeah, Padalecki… what´cha doing here, pray tell us? Enjoying the private rooms?” Tom's voice sounded different. Cold, and mocking in a scathing way.  
Padalecki huffed. “None of your business, Welling. What are you doing with Jensen?”  
Jensen felt himself be pulled against Tom's shoulder, a possessive hand gripping his waist tight.   
“Oh, Jensen and I were just having a fun night out, you know? Until you came along, that is.”  
“Yeah, I can see that.” Padalecki seemed to speak through gritted teeth. Jensen tried to make sense of anything, but failed. His vision had started spinning again, slower than before, but still annoying.  
“Tom's callin´ me a cab”, he informed the other man earnestly. He saw Padalecki´s eyes narrow.   
“A cab? Seriously? You can't -”  
“Actually,” Tom interrupted him with a grin. “I was just about to give Jensen a ride home.” Jensen felt a hand stroking up and down his side, settling on his chest. “As you can see, he doesn’t take his liquor all too well. Shame, as we were really hitting it off on the dance floor. That  boy can move, I can tell you…well, gotta do the knight in shining armor thing now, right?” Jensen frowned back over his shoulder at Tom; he was pretty sure there had been some talk about a cab, earlier, but damn his thoughts were fighting through honey, then he glanced at Padalecki in front of him. The man's face was a cold mask.  
“Right,” Padalecki seemed to force the word out. “Because that's exactly your thing, right, Welling?”  
“Absolutely,” Tom crooned. His hand had wandered up, fingers caressing one of Jensen´s nipples now. Pleasure zinged through him, making his legs wobble. Jensen let his head fall back against Tom, reveling in the feeling of being held, of the body heat seeping through their clothes, those clever fingers just teasing one of his most sensitive spots.  
He noticed Padalecki had taken one step closer. Even to Jensen´s befuddled mind, he seemed incredibly tense.  
Tom chuckled behind him. Jensen wondered why it didn't sound amused, or pleasant at all.  
“No need to pull the big Alpha male card, Padalecki,” Tom huffed. “This is not your territory, and Jensen´s a consenting adult.”  
Jensen nodded sagely at that. “M´ 25 in March,” he slurred.  
“Sure, babe. Now let us get you into bed, yeah?”  
Padalecki narrowed his eyes, but took a step back. “I'm watching you, Welling”, he said, voice icy. “Don't think you can play your tricks here like you used to back home. See ya, Jensen.” With that, he turned around abruptly and strode back down the hallway to the separate entrance doors reserved for private guests. Jensen realized belatedly that he hadn't properly answered. He waved lazily. Damn, had his hand grown heavy,, murmuring a happy “Bye, Jared….” after the man. Once Padalecki had disappeared through the doors, Tom huffed angrily.   
“Figures that this dickwad would be in town. Mr. High-and-Mighty himself. But tell you what, he'll not drive me away. Not this time!”  
Jensen tried focusing on Tom. “Tall & Handsome. N´Douchy. Swell dancer, though…” he contributed, nodding slowly. “Hallufa dancer.”  
“Yeah, I bet. Come on, let's get you outta here.” Jensen was jostled through the dancing crowd once more, pulled through the bar by Tom's relentless arms. Seeing people sip at their drinks there almost made him puke again, and finally shoved into a car.   
The rest of the night somehow was lost to him. He was shaken awake by his dad the next morning, realizing he was spread on the floor in the winter garden, he was still barely coherent. He could remember, later that day, being brought up to his room by his dad, but that was it. When his parents asked him what the heck had happened, and how he had managed to get the worst hangover of his life on a weekday, (“.. and when you've got the morning shift, too, Jensen! “), he could only shake his head (bad, bad idea) helplessly; wrecking his brain only got him a worse headache than before, but no recollection of the late evening's happenings at all.  
His mom kept eying him with a concerned expression on her face, his dad didn’t even ask him to join him in the garage. Jensen knew he wouldn’t have been of much help, but still, it stung a little, and when Mack came home from a visit to the museum with Mr. Collins, of course, and his scary red haired cousin, her sharp eyes seemed to dissect his every movement or facial expression. She didn’t comment on it, though, which Jensen found slightly worrying. As she spent every free minute glued to her phone, a secret smile on her face, he gathered she was distracted enough by a certain pair of dark blue eyes to give him a break.  
That’s why he was taken by surprise the next day, dragging himself home from a double shift at the cafe (his dad had called in sick for him, the day after the club incident, and Jensen had taken both his colleagues shifts the next day instead) , when he found his mom in a state of confused worry, and his sister locked inside her room, refusing to leave or explain what had happened.  
“Maybe you can get her to talk to us, Jensen! I’m at a loss at what to do. She’s been like this since lunchtime!” When his Mom was upset, their tableware was in danger. Jensen got up from the table with a sigh, feeling every damned hour of the double shift in his legs, and took the plate she was rubbing furiously out of her hands.   
“I´ll try talking to her, Mom. Come on, let me finish here. Where’s Dad, by the way?”  
His mother huffed, but released the dish cloth and plate to Jensen.   
“Something came up at the company, that’s all I know. He only said there'd been some new developments and that they'd been asked to stay. And now Mack's acting up like that, your Dad’s not here, and who knows how long anyone’s still gonna have a job in town! How will we pay for Mack’s treatments if Alan loses his job? Everything´s just such a mess!”  
Jensen hastily put down the glass plate and dishrag. He pulled his Mom to his chest. Even if she’d always been emotional, he’d rarely seen her that upset.   
“It´s gonna be Okay, Mom. I´ll talk to Mack, Okay? She’s barely 18, and crazily in love, I guess, so… she’ll be Okay, right?” His Mom sniffed against his shoulder. It was weird to be the one comforting her, when all his life it had been him getting comfort being enveloped in her soft, warm embrace.  
“And we don't know about the company yet, right? Could be they’re announcing good news, right? And even if they don’t, we'll… we'll find a way to make things work. I can… I can find another job, or a better one, and… just don’t worry, Mom. It’ll be Okay. Everything´s gonna be Okay.”   
He just wished he could believe his own words, as they sounded hollow even to himself.  
They seemed to be enough to pull his mom out of her funk, though.  
“You're right”, she said, straightening up, visibly pulling herself together. “We'll find a way to make things work, like we always do.” She padded his cheek, back in her usual mom-mode, and took the dishrag up again. “Thanks, sweetie. Now go and try talking to your sister, will you? Maybe you can talk some sense into her. God knows I’ve tried, but she’s as stubborn as your father.”   
Jensen wasn’t sure that’s where Mack's stubbornness came from, but as his mom had taken to violently rubbing dishes again, he kept his mouth shut.  
“You gonna be all right?” he asked carefully.  
His mom smiled at him. It looked a little strained. “Of course, sweetie. I always am, right? Now go, see your sister!” She actually shooed him away with the dishrag, so Jensen took it as his clue to retreat and summon the energy for his next task.   
Down the hall, he stopped in front of the door to Mack's room. Rolling his head and shoulders, feeling like a boxer before the prize fight, well, maybe a little bit more like after the fight already, he took a deep breath and knocked.  
“Mack?” There was no response, so he knocked again. “Hey, Mack, you in there? Come on, talk to me.” Still, he got no response. Sighing, he leaned against the door. “Come on, little sis. Maybe your wise older brother can help, ya know?” He could hear a huffing sound through the door and smiled. “Can I come in?” When everything stayed quiet, though, he shifted into the next gear. “Mack, come on, you’re scaring Mom. And me. Just tell me what’s wrong, Okay? We'll figure something out. Just - let me see you, Okay?”  
“Okay.”  
It was faint, but it was there. Jensen released the breath he’d been holding. “Hey,” he said, after sitting down at the end of Mack's bed, where she’d curled under her favorite quilt. “Thanks for letting me in.”  
“You wouldn’t have stopped knocking anyway,” she murmured.  
“You're right about that,” he answered, a smile tugging at his lips. “Guess Mom's right, then. We’re both stubborn.” She huffed at that, but still didn’t turn to look at him.  
He gently stroked his hand up and down the soft quilt covering her. “Come on, Mack. Tell me what’s wrong.”  
And finally, she gave in. Sitting up, scrambling back so she could lean against the cushions accumulated against her bed's headboard, she looked at Jensen, then down at her hands, twisted into the quilt.  
“It´s… it´s Misha,” she murmured, voice wet. “He's - he’s gone.”  
Jensen frowned. “What do you mean - gone? Has he been called away for business or something? One of his charity things?”  
She slowly shook her head. “No, it… I don’t know what happened, we were at the museum yesterday, and had such a - a wonderful time, as always, y´know, like talking about the art, and artists, and how to make exhibitions a really stunning experience for the viewers. He’s seen so many already, and…”   
Jensen could see the wetness in her eyes, and instinctively climbed on her bed, carefully enclosing her in an embrace. She leaned her head against his shoulder, wiping her eyes.  
“He said we´d do that again, you know, see all the museums, not only our small ones here, but the great ones, in New York, and - and Europe even.”   
It had been a dream of hers, since she’d been little. Jensen knew how much it meant to her to be able to do that, but with her condition, and the family’s limited financial resources, it had been out of the question.  
If Collins had dangled a promise like that in front of her, only to somehow take it away right after - Jensen felt something dark and angry stir deep inside.  
“So - what did he do?”  
Mack shook her head against his chest, a sob shaking her shoulders. “I - I don’t know what happened then, he brought me to the library as promised, so Mum could take me to therapy, and he was - we were happy! I mean, that cousin of his, Alaina, she looked just as sour and haughty and bored as always and even creepier than usual, like, you know, she always has this weird expression in her eyes, as if she’d start slaughtering people around her at any moment , just for fun?”   
Jensen shuddered. Yes, the red-haired cousin had messed with his head, too, mostly because of the way she looked at people in general, as if they were bugs to be crushed under her $2000 shoes, but also because she seemed like someone who’d do everything to keep her cousin, and the family fortune, out of reach of anyone below her social class.  
He'd also noticed how she looked at Jared - Mr. Padalecki, that is - and how her eyes had narrowed whenever his attention was drawn away from her. Not that he had paid special attention to Mr. Tall & Handsome at all, mind you. Nope. He was just… observant. Jensen had gone so far as to consider a place for Alaina in one of his graphic novels… a dark Knight of Hell, resurrected from destruction by a dark spell, trying to get back to former power and glory…  
Mack shivered in his arms, pulling him back to the problem at hand.  
“We were supposed to meet today after school. He said there’d be an important meeting at the company in the morning, and then he would be free to take me up to Lee´s Hills. Misha hates being stuck with the lawyers and executives and all these people for hours, so we wanted to just be outside for a while.” Her fingers frantically pulled at a loose thread on her quilt. “And then - then I got a call on my phone just when I left school. It was - some secretary, telling me Mr. Collins wouldn’t be able to come. And that all his future appointments would be canceled, as he'd had to leave to tend to more important business elsewhere.” Her hands balled into fists. “And he - I tried to call him, Jen, but his phone only went to voice mail, and Mrs. Summers at the manor couldn’t tell me anything, or wouldn’t, she’s always looked down her nose on everybody here. He’s… I think he really is gone, and I - what do I do now, Jensen? What - what can I do? Why would he do that? Why didn’t he - why would he just leave like that? I don’t understand what’s happening, he’s never been anything but…” She was sobbing now, pressed against Jensen´s shirt. He stroked her head, silently cursing Collins, his evil cousin, and everyone included in their party of wealthy douchebags. It was his sister's next words, murmured against his chest, that had him seething though.  
“You think… you think he´s just grown tired of me being ill? Of me being such a burden?”  
Jensen had a hard time not to clench his teeth. Instead, he pulled his sister even closer, kissing the top of her head.  
“Listen to me, Mack. Don't you ever think that, just because others are too stupid to see what a great young woman you are. You’re beautiful and funny, and scarily smart, and being around you is nothing but a joy.” She hiccupped against his shirt at that. Jensen smiled. Considering their constant verbal fights during the years, his statement sounded maybe a little over the top.   
“I don’t know what game Collins is playing here, but if I find out and get to him, I´ll kick his ass just for making you doubt yourself like that. You’re a strong, amazing woman, and I’m glad to have you as my little sister. Even if you can be annoying as hell sometimes.”  
She shoved him a little at that, but still rested her head on his shoulder. “That was…incredibly cheesy,” she mumbled.  
“I know…” Jensen chuckled. “Doesn't mean it isn’t true, though.”  
They stayed quiet for a while, Jensen rocking her, like he used to when she was a little girl.  
“I'm glad you’re my brother, too”, she finally mumbled.  
“Now who’s the cheesy one,” Jensen smiled.  
“Doesn't mean you can't be annoying, too,” she answered.  
“I know.”  
She played with one of his buttons. “What do I do now? I - I really like him, Jense. And I thought…” She choked on her own words.  
Jensen sighed. “I´ll do my best to find out what happened, I promise. This doesn’t seem like Collins…like Misha at all. Maybe it´s just - I dunno, some emergency? And he’ll give you a call as soon as he can? You know, all these charities he runs or helps…maybe he’s just in some godforsaken country without reception. Or someone died. We can’t tell, can we? Let’s just hope…let's hope it isn’t anything tragic, and that he’ll get to you as soon as possible.”  
“Yeah…”, she murmured.  
“I´ll try and get some information. Maybe Dad knows something. Something is going on at the company right now, could be it is connected somehow…”  
He kissed her head again. “You Okay now?”  
She sighed. “Yeah.”  
“It'll be Okay. Everything´s gonna be fine. You’ll see.”

Except that when his dad finally came home, he didn’t have any news to soothe their nerves. The employees had been informed that for now, the active evaluation progress had been closed, and the collected data would be going through a thorough examination process. Collins, his cousin, and Mr. Padalecki had left the town, the furniture in the huge manor was once again covered with sheets and left in a state of hibernation, and the whole town wondered what exactly had hit them, and if they’d just woken from a weird dream.


	10. Excuses and Apologies

Jensen had managed to calm down his mother enough to get her to leave Mack alone for the evening, and even give her the space she needed the next day. Collins hadn’t called or texted by midnight when he checked on his sister. He internally cursed the man once more, yet tried to keep Mack's spirits up, with doubtful success.  
He had an early shift at the cafe once again and left before anyone else had gotten up. The cafe’s early morning atmosphere, with its heavenly scent of freshly grounded coffee beans, and pastries still hot from the oven, the only sound the occasional hissing of the huge coffee machine and Mr. Devereaux turning a page of his newspaper, had a pleasantly calming effect on him.  
That is, until a tall figure waltzed in, zooming in on Jensen behind the counter, and approached him with a wide grin on his face.  
“Jensen!” the man greeted him, leaning on the counter. “What a pleasure to meet you again!”  
“Tom,” Jensen said, way less enthusiastically. Even if he knew it was immature, he blamed the other man for his epic hangover after their night out.   
Tom seemed to sense his reservations, and straightened up again. “Listen, about the other night - I’m sorry, Okay? It was a shitty move not to bring you home in person. The taxi driver seemed nice enough, but still. You were pretty wasted, and I shouldn’t have left you with a stranger like that.”  
Okay. That was unexpected. Just when Jensen had decided that Tom Welling wasn't worth shedding any tears over, he surprised him with this apology. It sounded even heartfelt.  
He cleared his throat. “Well, I - I can’t really remember much after going to the toilet, to be honest. I, uhm… I've never tried cocktails like that, usually I stick with beer. Guess my tolerance isn’t the best.”  
Tom grinned. “That's a grave understatement. You should have told me you’re such a light weight!”  
Jensen blushed. With his height and build, everyone misjudged his ability to hold his liquor. It was unfair, considering Danneel with all of her 100 pounds could drink anyone under the table.  
To distract from the topic, he asked the next best thing that came to his mind.   
“Did we really meet Jared Padalecki at the club, or was that my wasted mind playing tricks on me?”  
Well, it sure did the trick - Tom's expression changed into a scowl immediately.   
“I wish it were. He sure strutted around in there as if he owned the place. Guess he’s so used to it he can’t even walk like a normal person anymore. Fucking oil prince.” His words were laced with enough venom to spike Jensen´s curiosity. For all he could remember, Padalecki had been acting unusually nice, concerned, even; but it could be that his fantasies were messing with reality, considering his state at the time.  
“You know him?”, he asked.   
„Hell, yes,” Tom spit out. “We practically grew up together. Much good did it do me…”  
Jensen squinted at him. He was kinda curious to know more about Padalecki.   
“You wanna tell me about it? Have a coffee while we talk?”  
Tom nodded. “It´s about time someone told the truth about him. I can’t stand it when he waltzes into town like that, playing America's most wanted bachelor, flashing his wealth in front of us lowly citizens.”  
Well, to be honest, Jensen hadn’t exactly seen Padalecki do anything of the sort, nor had his friends or family reported such behavior. But Tom obviously knew the man better, more intimately, and much longer, than anyone here.  
“Cappuccino? And a pastry to go with it?”  
Tom grinned at him. “You know my weaknesses…”  
Jensen smiled back. While Tom went over to the same table he’d chosen the last time, Jensen busied himself with the coffee machine. Once he’d settled Mr. Devereaux and Mrs. Moseley with their refills and glasses of fresh water, he joined Tom at the table, glad to be able to sit down for a moment.  
“So - you really grew up together? How come?”  
Tom took a sip of his cappuccino. “Well, Padalecki has always been the heir to his parents´ oil empire. I, on the other hand, was just the son of his father’s first hand. We’re practically the same age, and as Jared was home schooled, we spent a lot of time together on the grounds surrounding their ranch. His father always liked me a lot. More than he liked his own son, I suppose. I’m pretty sure that’s what finally made Jared turn on me - his jealousy. Jared was kind of a dorky child, always buried in a book, or asking weird questions. I, on the other hand, loved sports, and the horses, and - well, girls.”  
“Girls?” Jensen asked confused. “But-“  
Tom chuckled. “You mean, because of the club the other night? Well…” He let his gaze wander over Jensen in an almost obscene way. “Let's just say that I appreciate the best of both worlds.”  
Jensen coughed on his black double espresso. When he’d calmed again, he asked, “So, Padalecki senior wasn’t thrilled to hear about his son being gay, I take it?”  
Tom huffed. “Understatement of the year. It´s Texas, after all…but after the first period of shock, anger, and fighting, the old man kind of surprised us all. He’s most and for all a business man, after all, and a brilliant one at that. So when Jared didn’t budge, but stood up for himself - man, he could be a stubborn son of a bitch, even at 16, I can tell you - his father just…dunno. Saw an opportunity? Cause Jared…you know, he had always right out refused to go into business until then. But after his coming out…”   
Tom took another sip of his coffee, while Jensen chanced a glance at his two other customers. Frank was buried behind his newspaper, and Missouri had her nose in her usual crossword puzzle, the New York Times one, which she never failed to solve. Tom chuckled. It sounded a little bitter.   
“Guess the old man saw his chance then. He told Jared that if he really was gay, and planned on heralding it to the whole world, he’d have to be the gay poster boy for the family business. A gay front man…show the world that a Padalecki´s always a Padalecki, no matter who he fucks? Those were, if I remember correctly, his exact words.”  
Jensen gaped. “Wow…”   
“Yeah”, Tom snorted. “Jared took the bait. He'd always been desperate to get his father’s appreciation. So…he got into Business School, majored in Economics, did his internships in other big ass companies. Climbed the ladder in his father’s firm.” Jensen watched Tom lick milk foam from his lips. Something unpleasant pulled at the other man’s mouth for a moment.  
“I stayed close to home, all that time. Padalecki senior had a college fund ready for me when I graduated from High School, and I didn’t get the sports scholarship I had hoped on ´cause of a shot knee.”   
Jensen looked up. “You were going for a sports scholarship? What sport?”  
Tom grinned back. “ Football, quarterback, at your service! I rocked the game. Got all the sexiest cheerleaders…and the prettiest bell boys, too.” He winked at Jensen. “You play anything in High School, Jensen?”  
Jensen blushed, not exactly sure why. “No, I…not really. I tried baseball for a while, and I wasn’t even bad at it, but…dunno. I didn’t see the appeal, I guess. I was in the track team for a while though.” He did not tell Tom that he’d been one of his school's bell boys, too.  
“Shame,” Tom said. “Your ass would have looked phenomenal in tight pants.”  
Jensen blushed even more and glanced around the cafe surreptitiously.  
“Anyway,” Tom continued. “Long story short, I got injured, busted my knee, and ta da, Gerald Padalecki was ready with the money to pay for college. He'd been to a few of my games, you know? Always took an interest in my sports career. So, I went to Uni, and for a while, it seemed okay. Great parties, beautiful girls and boys everywhere, you know how it is.” He suggestively wriggled his eyebrows at Jensen. “But, you know…the whole academic career wasn’t for me, I guess. Had enough after two and a half years, and went back to the farm for a while, to give my dad a hand, and sort out what to do with my life.”  
He stirred the last of his milk foam with his spoon. “I don’t know if you know this, but Jared has a little sister.” Jensen shook his head. Tom chuckled. “Yeah, she’s not in the media as much as her big ass brother. We hadn’t seen her much when we were younger, she was in some freakishly expensive boarding school somewhere, I think Switzerland? Well, anyway, when I moved back in with my father, she had returned, too. Had just turned 17, and finished school, ready to start her college life or whatever.” He smiled at some memory. “Man, she was… smart as a whip, and at the same time, totally naive, and innocent, you know? And, well, guess she’d already had a monumental crush on me or something. Fact is, we kinda fell in love. She actually…she actually wanted to tell her father, and ask him to give us his blessing and everything! And I was okay with it, you know?” Tom's facial expression darkened. “And then - then Old Man Padalecki died. Heart attack, out of the blue.”  
Jensen flinched. “Ouch.”   
“Yeah,” Tom chuckled darkly. “And that’s when Jared showed his true colors. He came back from whatever branch of the company he was running at the time, and took over. Moved back into the ranch, too. And then…” Tom's eyes narrowed. “He threw me out.”  
“What?”  
Tom nodded, lips pressed together. “Told me to pack my things and leave. `Get my life together´, he called it. My dad had passed away six months before, I didn’t exactly have a job on the ranch, just helped wherever needed, you know? And of course, there was no contract or anything. So…well, I had no choice. I left. He didn’t even let me see his sister to say good bye. Must have broken her heart. Poor thing.”  
Jensen shook his head, barely able to believe what he’d heard. “What an asshole!”  
“You got that right”, Tom said, leaning back in his chair. “But, what can I say, I’m a stubborn fella, too. Found a job, and I’m an ace at it. It still stings, though, you know? Whenever I see that douchebag on TV, or on the cover of Fortune, whatever. This man took everything from me, just because he was jealous.” Tom crushed the small sugar package in his hand. “But I’m done running, or playing the obedient farm boy. If Padalecki has got a problem with me staying here - he has to go, not me.”  
Jensen was about to encourage Tom, tell him how he admired his strength and perseverance, when they were interrupted by the door bells ringing merrily. A whole group of school kids entered, chatting about something they shared on their phones, giggling and rolling their eyes. Jensen sighed.   
“Sorry, I….”  
Tom waved him away. “That's okay, go do your job, I’ve talked your ears off long enough.” Jensen got up and held up a hand when he saw Tom fumbling for his wallet. “On the house,” he said. Tom grinned back.  
“Well, if that’s so, I´ll have to come back, I guess.”  
Jensen smiled, a little shyly. “I´d like that.”  
“It´s a date,” Tom whispered in Jensen´s ear, passing him on his way to the entrance, leaving Jensen stock still for a moment. A date?   
And hell, why not. Fuck Padalecki and his freakishly sexy body. The guy was a grade A douchebag and not even worth playing a role in Jensen´s nightly fantasies anymore. Tom, on the other hand, seemed mostly like a nice guy so far, was more Jensen´s league, and wasn’t exactly hard on the eyes, either. Jensen straightened up, went behind the counter, and smiled at the teenaged girls in front of him.   
“What can I get you, my ladies?”  
They would pull through this mess. He'd find out what had happened to the elusive Mr. Collins, and kick his ass for hurting Mack, his dad still had a job, and he had even found something to look forward to.   
Closing up the cafe that evening, he felt slightly optimistic again.


	11. Good Byes

“You can't be serious.”  
“Deadly.”  
„Danni- look, I understand that you feel desperate for a real job, but - Fuller? He’s a douchebag! And don’t get me started on what the company -”  
“Jensen, stop it!”  
“Why! You’re making - this is a mistake, Danni, I'm telling you! You don’t - you can’t want to work for someone like him!”  
“Well, maybe I cannot afford saying no to an offer like that, Jensen! Ever thought about that?”  
Danneel glared at him, face an angry mask; but there was something vulnerable hiding in her eyes that made Jensen shut his mouth.  
“I'm 25, with a shitload of college loans to pay, and I’m working three different shitty jobs just to get by! My mum’s job is in jeopardy, and she’s still got debts to pay, thanks to my asshole of a father! I’ve got - I’ve got nothing, Jensen, and no one else to lean on! Not everyone has your loving family to support them, no matter what. And I'm… I'm scared, okay? So don’t you dare judge me for taking an exceptionally well paid job at a major firm. Don’t you dare!”  
Jensen stared at her, speechless.  
“Danni, I….” He was at a loss of words.  
She shook her head. “So maybe Fuller's a douchebag, and maybe the company he works for has clients below our oh-so-idealistic standards. The job is exactly what I’ve been studying for. I am not saying it´s anywhere near my dream job. And you’re right, this Fuller guy is as creepy as you said.”  
“But then -”   
She raised her hand to stop him. “Have a little faith in me, will you? You think I’m going in there unprepared?” A devilish gleam appeared in her eyes. “If the guy is dumb enough to try something - anything - I´ll not be the innocent girl from the middle of nowhere he’s expecting.”  
Jensen still wasn’t convinced. “I still don’t like it. You being there all on your own, with a boss like that. You don’t even know how many others like him are there.”  
Danneel finally came over from where she’d been leaning against the huge tree's trunk in Jensen´s garden and plopped down on the swing at his side.  
“I´ll be fine, Jensen.” She wriggled her arm around his waist. “And let them try. They won’t know what hit them!”  
Jensen glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”  
She rested her head on his shoulder. “Promise.”  
Jensen plugged at a loose thread of his jeans. “I´ll miss you.”  
Danneel squeezed his side. “I´ll miss you too…”  
“You'll call, though? And message me?”  
She smiled. “Every day. Cross my heart. You’ll get sick of my calls soon enough and change your phone number.”  
“As if that would keep you from pestering me.”  
"Touche’.”

 

A week later, Danneel was on her way to New York to start a new job and a new life. Jensen hadn't heard from Tom since their last talk at the café, Collins hadn’t sent any signs of life, Padalecki, and the distraction he provided was gone, and Chris and Steve had jumped in for some other band on a last minute tour. His life seemed to lack much of its usual color. His sister had lost a lot of her spark, mostly hiding behind her school work, even if he tried his best to distract her from time to time.  
Therefore, Jensen found himself working extra shifts a lot; and whatever free time he had, he spent bent over his drawing desk, absorbed in the lives of his graphic novel's characters. They were, at least, still under his control; something he couldn't say about everything else going on around him.  
After two weeks, his mom had enough of Mack's moping and took her to visit their aunt for an extended spring break. Mack's physical therapist had suggested they go see a colleague of hers, who lived only an hour’s drive from their aunt's home and as they couldn’t do much to mend her broken heart, their parents at least wanted to try everything to cheer her up with some physical success.  
So Jensen and his dad waved them good bye on a beautiful, but bitingly cold Saturday morning, both expressions of fake cheer on their faces. As soon as Donna's car had turned at the corner and was out of sight, Alan wiped down his face with one hand.   
“Let's just hope it helps,” he murmured. Looking over at his father, Jensen noticed for the first time how tired his dad looked. Worn, even. His conscience stirred. He'd been so occupied with everything going on in his own life, and worrying about Mack, that he hadn’t paid much attention to how his parents coped. Now he could see that the last weeks had taken their toll on his father, too.  
“You okay, Dad?” he cautiously asked. They usually avoided heart-to-hearts, it was bad enough when Donna forced them to go hide in your garage and talk it out, for the Lord's sake!  
Alan shot him a small smile. “I'm good, son. Just… worried about your mom, and Mack - she’s still my little girl, no matter how old she gets, you know? She can’t be old enough to have her heart broken, can she? Not for me.” He turned to go back into the house. “And I hate feeling helpless”, he added quietly.  
Jensen bit his lower lip. Helpless - yes, he got how is dad felt. And not just where Mack was concerned. There was the job situation, the company’s Damocles sword dangling above them all, Danneel, no, he hadn’t stopped worrying, whatever she’d said to reassure him, not to mention his own love life, which was pretty much non-existent, or messed up to fit the rest.

 

The following weeks went by in a blur of work shifts, quiet meals with his father, and working frantically on his book. He'd started researching a lot of lore, lately, digging into the stories Josh had told him, and finding new, thrilling monsters or urban legends all over the world. He easily had enough to turn his comic into a whole series. It was a dream, of course, but what else did he have to distract himself? At least it took his mind off everything else.

 

When Danneel excitedly called him one night, inviting him to visit her in New York, he didn’t hesitate long. The weekend after, he was on a plane, staring into the fluffy clouds spreading under the painfully blue sky.


	12. Storms

“Wow…”  
“I know, right?”  
“You've done all that in - what, two months?”  
Danneel winked at him. “Hey, you know I’m Wonder-woman, right?”  
Jensen shook his head, glancing around the tiny apartment in wonder. “That you are…”  
Danneel pulled him further into the living room/office/dining area. As small as the place was, it was perfectly organized, and on top of it all, looked so cozy Jensen couldn’t help but feel at home the moment he’d stepped through the door. And all of it, from the purple couch and the earth-colored walls and accessories, to the pictures, photos and small objects in deep frames filling a whole wall, seemed to shout Danni!  
Jensen walked over to inspect the photos and laughed out loud. “Oh God, you didn’t… why would you hang this one? I think I couldn’t walk down the stairs for a whole week after that, my legs were so sore! And Steve's nose peeled and practically glowed red for days!”  
Danneel joined him, examining the picture that showed their little group on top of a mountain, laughing into the camera. They all looked sweaty, sunburned and exhausted - but absolutely happy. She sneaked her arm around Jensen´s shoulders.   
“Because,” she said, and Jensen could hear the smile in her voice, “It´s one of the best moments of my life. Remember how we didn’t think we´d make it, and Chris was complaining all the time that climbing mountains was a stupid idea anyway, and you started this lecture about how conquering the mountain means to overcome your own fears and weaknesses and that there’s a ton of lore about the heroes having to get to the top to find their answers, and wise mountain creatures and what not?”  
Jensen chuckled. “I think if Chris had had any breath to spare, he'd have hit me just to shut me up.”  
Danneel giggled. “I know! But it distracted him long enough for all of us to get to the last part of the trail…and the feeling once we were on the top, looking down? Seeing all that stunning landscape spread out all around us, knowing we´d made it? It was awesome.”  
“Yeah, it was.” Jensen smiled at the memory. It had started as a crazy challenge, becoming one of the best experiences of his life, sore muscles be damned. “It felt like we were able to conquer the world, didn’t it? Like anything was possible. Anything at all.”  
Danneel squeezed his shoulder. “I know…” she sounded a little wistful. When she pulled away, her smile was a happy one, though. “But you know what…being out here on my own for a while now, I realized something. We may not be the starry eyed kids from back then anymore, but… the world’s still there, you know? Waiting to be conquered. A few doors might have closed, and we might have lost opportunities by choosing one path over another, but that’s how life works, right? And we found new doors and new opportunities, and always will.”  
Jensen studied her, a smile tugging at his lips. “You turning into Yoda out here, Danni? Or is it just old age talking?” He was fast enough, for once, to avoid her fist on his upper arm. Her pout was somewhat ruined by the grin that took over.  
“Shut your mouth you must, young Padawan. Wisdom find you should before talking!” She grimaced after that, rolling her eyes. “Oh God, that was terrible.”  
Jensen giggled. “It totally was.” He grew serious again though. “So - you’re happy here? The job's good?”  
Danneel smiled. “Oh, the job's - exhausting, you know? Sometimes I come home at night, and all I can do is heat up some soup, brush my teeth, and fall into bed. But…”  
She paused. Jensen looked at her expectantly. „But?”  
She shrugged. “It´s also - rewarding. And I'm not even doing anything important right now, you know? Just being sent around, helping out, everywhere, to get to know the whole process. How awesome will it be to do that kind of work once I know what I’m doing?” She went over to the couch and plopped down on it, patting the spot beside her for Jensen to sit down, too.  
Jensen did, and turned to her to study her face before asking, “So- you like it at the firm? The company’s okay then? The colleagues?”  
She laughed out loud at that. “Are you kidding me? Of course not!”  
Jensen felt strangely relieved at that, even if a twinge of guilt was mixed into it. Danneel went on. “The company is no doubt top notch, you know, I mean, they sure know what they’re doing, but - their ethics? I think they’d help the devil get world domination if it pays. Heck, they’re probably doing that right now.” She grimaced. “And some of the colleagues are okay, I guess, and they are really good at their jobs. But they seem… I don’t know… It´s like they leave their conscience outside once they enter the building. All those companies we help succeed? Take the top 50 of every Black List there is, and we´ll be the ones selling their strongly filtered and tuned-up image to the public. It´s - disgusting!”  
Jensen frowned. “But then - why would you…”  
Danneel´s eyes got the dangerous glow Jensen had learned to fear. „Why am I working with them? Why do I want to be a part of it?”   
Jensen shrugged. “Yeah?”  
Daniel grinned evilly. “Know your enemies, Jen… know your enemies. I intend to learn everything and anything I can from them. Be the best amongst them - until I can open my own company, or join one that has actually decent clients, and a morale, and ethical boundaries - and beat them with their own weapons.” Jensen opened his mouth, but Danneel raised her hand to stop him. “I know what you’re gonna say. It’ll take a while to get there. But Jen, in the long run, it’ll be worth it.”  
“You sure? ´Cause if you don’t like what you’re doing…”   
Danneel shook her head. “It´s not that I don’t like what I am doing, Jen. The work is great. It´s just who I am doing it for that bothers me. But I fully intend to get back at them once I can.”  
Jensen nodded slowly. If anyone could pull something like that, it was Danneel.   
“Just - be careful, okay? And - don’t… I mean…” He wasn’t sure how to put his concern into words. “Promise me something?”  
“Okay?”  
“Don't - don’t turn into one of them.”   
Danneel opened her mouth to protest, but he just went on, “I know I’m a douche for only thinking it, because I’ve known you all my life, but - it happens, you know? You work somewhere for a while, months, years, and first you see clearly what’s wrong, and you swear to yourself that you’ll never be a part of it. Not for real. But then…with time, you just get used to it, I guess? And your views get twisted and suddenly you can’t tell what’s right or wrong anymore, or you just - you don’t care anymore? Which is even worse, I guess.” He picked at a thread of his jeans, not daring to look up at her. “Just - promise me you won’t turn into a corporate douchebag, will you?”  
Danneel sighed. “I should be kicking your ass for even suggesting that I could think about it,” she said, “But I hear what you’re saying. And I promise, okay? I´ll do my best. And should my moral radar ever waver, I´ll have you guys to get me back on track, right?” She bumped his shoulder with hers. “So I´ll need you and the gang, Okay? And once I’m done here…”  
“You'll kick ass and take names,” Jensen completed her sentence. It had been their motivational mantra before dancing competitions, exams, or trying to find the perfect Christmas present for everyone in a crazily crowded mall on Black Friday.  
“Exactly,” Danneel said, slapping her thighs and getting up from the couch. “And now I’m starving. Let’s go to my favorite place to eat around here, shall we? You’ll love the desserts…”

 

The next evening, Jensen was to be Danneel´s plus one at an important company event. She'd talked about some big party on the phone and how she’d need moral support. Now it turned out she'd be dragging him to a private dinner the company held every year for a selected few important customers, people they tried to impress/acquire as clients, and a handful of those who kept their business running on other levels, from financing to politicians to those trading in the most valuable currency, information.  
They had sat at Danneel´s dinner table, having a cozy breakfast together, Jensen inhaling the heavenly scent of strong coffee coming from his mug.  
“So, about the party tonight,” Danneel had startled him out of his meditational state. She put a big, cream-white envelope in front of him. Jensen had opened it obediently. When he had seen the invitation, thick hand-made paper, elegant golden lettering and all, he'd almost started panicking.  
“You’re taking me to - to a fancy-ass private dinner with a bunch of - of corporate douchebags? Seriously, Danni? I can’t - I - and I don’t even own a tuxedo!”  
She giggled.   
Jensen tried killing her with his superpower glare, but all it did was make her hug him and kiss his cheek. Then she held him at arm’s length and stared him down sternly.   
“Jensen Ross Ackles, first of all, you can hold your own with all these `corporate douchebags´, as you called them.”   
He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up one finger.   
“Who was the best actor on a High School stage our county's ever seen? Who made even coach Morgan secretly dab at his eyes when we played `Romeo and Juliet´? That was you, Jensen! So I guess you can pull off being comfortable meshing with a bunch of arrogant rich clients in need of someone to polish their public image, right? Piece of cake!” When he didn’t seem convinced, she patted his cheek affectionately and winked. “Besides, you can always just be the dumb eye candy hanging on my arm, if you prefer that! Everyone will be content just ogling your ass and fantasizing about your lips, I can assure you!”  
“Hey! Don´t- don't objectify me!”  
She shrugged. “Sorry, Jen, but they’re your best assets. Aside from your gorgeous eyes, of course. And I might have heard some of the girls back home gush about your bow legs, but - anyway. You aren’t hard to look at, so what! Use it! It’s what I do! That way, you’re in control, you know? And once they’ve lost their higher brain function drooling over the size of your boobs - or, in your case, I dunno - your perky little ass or whatever - you make them pay for it.”  
Jensen stared at her. “You are scaring me, woman…”  
She grinned. “As I should, pretty boy, as I should…”  
Then she clapped her hands. “But - you hear what I’m saying, right? You can do this. And don’t worry about the tuxedo, we have an appointment at a shop at ten-thirty, they’ll have everything ready and make the necessary adjustments until tonight.”  
That’s how Jensen found himself in front of the imposing columns of a neo-classical building housing some private collection, wearing a tuxedo that seemed to sit on his body like a second skin, a beautiful Danneel in dangerously high heels on his arm.  
“Ready?” she asked, leaning close to his ear.  
“As I´ll ever be,” he murmured back, straightening his shoulders, and together they pranced up the flight of stairs, for all the world looking as if they’d been born with a silver spoon filled with arrogance in their mouths, only waiting for red carpets to be rolled out in front of them.

The evening was - weird. Mack would have slapped Jensen for not being more accurate, but - well, it was all Jensen could think of when looking at the people around him. They all seemed to follow a textbook he had only a vague idea about, mostly taken from movies or The Great Gatsby, that kind of stuff, but it was strangely entertaining. At least for a while. Danneel actually had certain duties to fulfill, laid out before her in no uncertain terms by one Mr. Fuller, once he had spotted them entering the building, and had immediately approached them, his predatory smile making Jensen’s skin crawl.  
“Danneel! I must say, you look quite stunning tonight! Excellent, excellent…you remember what we talked about, I suppose - make them feel comfortable, look your best, be charming. You’re the young face of the company, got it?”   
Jensen could practically feel Danneel roll her eyes inwardly, but all she said, in her sweetest and most humble voice, was, “I remember perfectly, Mr. Fuller. No worries, I´ll play my role as you instructed me to.”   
Fuller nodded shortly, unaware of her hidden sarcasm, before turning to Jensen. His grin got even wider, and more condescending.  
„My, my, and who have we got here! Jensen, right? The young man who turned down all this,” he made a grand gesture including everything around them, the glittering chandeliers, expensively clad people, pomp and circumstances and what not . “To stay in his cozy little home town.” When he went on, his voice was between condescending and gloating.  
“Well, I think you might regret your decision once you’ve seen what you’re missing out on….your loss, our gain, as they say, right? Danneel is a wonderful addition to our team, I must say.”   
Jensen was saved from answering to that when Fuller spotted an important guest at the entrance, and left them abruptly, his face changing into the self-important, oily mask he obviously deemed correct when talking to people he wanted to impress.  
Daniel grabbed Jensen´s arm and pulled him further into the building. “Jesus, what a smarmy dick”, she murmured, before fixing her best smile on her face, heading right for a spacious hall where champagne and tiny appetizers were offered to the guests. “Let´s mesh with the high and mighty, shall we? And don’t forget, always look your best and be charming!”   
Jensen actually preferred the role of eye candy on her arm for most of the first hour, smiling as charmingly as he felt capable of. After a while, Danneel got pulled away by someone from the company, and Jensen strolled over to a room he could hear music drifting out of. He found a study, sort of, or library, with dark paneled walls and high bookshelves, sofas and stuffed chairs giving it a rather cozy atmosphere, especially in comparison to the bright, luxurious, but a little cold other halls and rooms. People sat and talked, some of them smoking already; a group of musicians sat in a corner by the unlit fireplace, playing a soft jazzy tune Jensen didn’t know. Jensen leant against the side of one of the high backed grandfather chairs to listen to them for a while. They were pretty good, as far as he could tell; it was a shame no one actually paid the music much attention.  
“It´s a pity no one ever really listens, isn’t it,” a quiet voice behind him startled him out of his musings. He turned around to find -   
“Pada - I mean - Mr. Padalecki? What - what are you doing here?”   
The tall man’s lips pulled into a small smile. “You seem overly surprised for someone who seems to have figured out the purpose of this kind of event pretty fast,” he said. “Now the real question is, what are you doing here? You’re not working for F,H&L, are you?”  
Jensen blushed. “No, I - my friend, Danneel, she started a job at the firm a couple months ago. She invited me to be here with her tonight.”  
Padalecki frowned for a moment, before his face straightened out again. “Ah, I remember - the red haired beauty you danced with at Misha´s ball, right?”  
Jensen nodded, a little bewildered that Padalecki would remember them at all. “Yes, that’s her. We used to do dance contests in high school together.”  
“Ah. I see.” He seemed strangely subdued by the information. Facing the small band again, and leaning down on the chair's back with his lower arms, he said, “I also remember you playing and singing at that ball, with your friends. Are you playing in a band together?”  
Jensen felt his blush deepen. Padalecki had heard them? Watched them? Damn, he must have been more than a little buzzed to miss that. “I, ah- no, actually, they, I mean, my friends, Chris and Steve, and Jason, they’re in a band. They’re on tour now. I only - sometimes we just jam a little, and I do some backup singing and stuff.”  
“Oh, you sure did more back at the ball.” Padalecki smiled.   
Jensen was mortified. He did? His memory of that evening was a little hazy from a certain point on. He bit his lower lip, a habit neither Danneel nor his sister had been able to make him get rid of so far. Padalecki seemed to sense his discomfort.   
“It was really nice to hear you sing, Jensen. You and your friends seem to fit together perfectly as a group. I´d love to listen to you again some time.” There was something warm hidden in Padalecki´s voice Jensen couldn’t quite place, or reconcile with what he knew about the guy.  
Before he could scramble together a sensible answer, they were interrupted by the jovial voice of Mr. Fuller, who’d appeared out of nowhere behind them.  
“Jared Padalecki! Here you are, hiding away in dark corners! Already tired of all the spotlight, I suppose? The hardships of fame and fortune…”  
Jensen felt Padalecki straighten up at his side. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the man slip back into the person everyone got to see. It was disconcerting. Who was the man he'd just been talking to?   
“We've just been listening to the music,” he heard Padalecki say. “You've got an excellent band here, Fuller.” He smiled down at Jensen for a moment and added. “The singer’s not quite as good as Mr. Ackles here, but I guess that’s a pretty high standard to reach.”   
Jensen felt his cheeks burn. “No, that’s - that’s really not true. Mr. Padalecki is just being kind. I’m really not -”  
Fuller only seemed to notice Jensen then. “Jensen!” He interrupted. “If Mr. Padalecki thinks so highly of you, you surely wouldn’t want to doubt his judgement, right?” His creepy grin made Jensen cringe. “I wonder if you could give us a sample of your skills? I’m sure Mr. Padalecki would enjoy it, as would the rest of us, I’m certain!”  
Jensen raised his hands in a defensive gesture. “Mr. Fuller, I feel honored that you would think so, but I can assure you that I’m not overly modest when I say I’m only an amateur fooling around with my friends.”  
Fuller's glance had a steely quality to it now. “Oh no, I absolutely insist. When Mr. Padalecki considers you good enough to show your talent, we don’t want to contradict him, do we?” He grabbed Jensen´s upper arm and pulled him in the direction of the band. Jensen threw a slightly panicked and desperate glance at Padalecki. The man looked remorseful, he had to give him that.  
“Uhm - I don't think it´s polite forcing Mr. Ackles to perform, Fuller. If he doesn’t want to -”  
“Pish-posh!” Fuller said, waving his hand airily at the room in general. “He surely wants to make you happy, as we all do, right, Jensen?” He glared at Jensen menacingly. “Besides, I'm a pretty good judge of musical talent, if I say so myself.” His self-satisfied smile gave Jensen goosebumps. “And now you’ve definitely piqued my interest, Mr. Padalecki. I’m sure Jensen won’t disappoint…”   
Guiding Jensen over to the fireplace, he bent down and murmured into his ear. “Disappoint again, I might say. I would be very sad to see your friend's promising career in our company end prematurely because you mess up, Jensen.”  
Jensen swallowed. Fuller would sack Danneel if he didn’t oblige? Could he do that? Well, probably yes. Danneel was still in training, and the guy was one of the CEOs, after all. Dammit.  
“O- Okay,” he murmured.  
“Attaboy!” Fuller clapped his too hot hand on Jensen´s shoulder, shot him one of his too-wide, too-artificial grins, and turned to nod triumphantly at Padalecki, who was leaning against the high-backed chair again. The band had finished their tune. Fuller stepped forward and clapped his hands.  
“One of our guests of honor has a special request. Jensen here,” he shoved Jensen forward unceremoniously, “Will perform…something, and you’ll support him.” His tone made it clear that he didn't consider the musicians worthy of the overflowing politeness he showed people like Jared Padalecki or the other high-ranking guests. They were just employees who were expected to ask, “How high?” when he told them to jump.  
Jensen felt relieved when the man finally released his arm and turned to join his guests again, but only for a moment. The musicians, however, didn’t seemed bothered by Fuller's request.  
“Hey there,” the bass player said. “Jensen, was it? So, what do you wanna play? Or sing? What’s the plan?”  
Jensen bit his lip. “I, ah … honestly, I don’t… I have no clue. This wasn’t my idea, and I´d never… I mean, you’re real professionals, and awesome, and…”  
The piano player grinned at him, and shrugged. “Hey, don’t sweat it. People like Mr. Self-Important over there usually don’t care anyway. So the question is, what do you feel comfortable with?”  
Comfortable? He'd feel comfortable turning tail and running right now. But a glance at Padalecki showed him the man’s encouraging smile and nod, and somehow Jensen felt defiance beat his panic.  
He rubbed his neck. “Uhm… do you guys only play jazz? Cause that’s not really up my alley…”  
The piano player laughed. “We mostly do, but we’ve done anything from classic rock to folk too. Maybe with a slightly jazz-y edge to it…”  
“Ok.” Jensen bit his lower lip. “Uhm, then… would it be okay if we do The Weight?”  
“Sure thing,” the guitarist said. “You're singing, right? Need the lyrics? We got a tablet somewhere here…”  
“Ah, no, thanks, I think I got it. Where should I…”  
The musicians made room for him, positioning him right in front of a microphone in their midst. Jensen dared glance up once more, relieved to see Fuller talk to a blond man at Padalecki´s side. Padalecki, himself, however, was still watching Jensen, a half-smile on his face. Jensen felt his cheeks warm.   
“So, uh - we'll play The Weight for you, hope that’s okay,” he said into the microphone. Jensen looked at the musicians around him. “Thank you guys for having me, it´s an honor.” They all grinned at him, nodded at each other, and started playing. Jensen closed his eyes. He could do this. Just like jamming with Chris and the guys back home, right? He let the intro wash over him, take him away from the pompous room and the unfamiliar crowd, the watchful eyes. When the music hit the right notes, he started singing, letting the melody, the words fill his mind. He blocked out everything, only hearing the instruments weave their tunes, talking to each other, dancing around his voice like a caress.  
He was surprised when it was over, the last notes hanging in the air for a moment. People clapped politely, ripping Jensen out of his zoned-out state; he nodded, murmuring a shy “Thank you,” into the mic, and turned to the band.  
“Thanks, guys, that was - thanks for having my back.”  
“Hey, anytime, man! You've got a great voice, ever thought of doing this professionally?”  
“Yeah, we could need a singer on occasion! You from around here?”  
Jensen shook his head, blushing again. “I, no, I'm only here as a guest. And - thanks for the invite, it´s very kind, but - I'm only an amateur.”  
“Could have fooled me,” the piano player said.   
Jensen looked up when someone approached their little group. He found Padalecki standing in front of them, the blond man still at his side.  
“I wanted to thank you all for your…flexibility,” he said. “I am aware the request came as a surprise, so I appreciate your compliance. Jensen, let me introduce you to an old friend of mine.”  
Padalecki was in his business mode again. When Jensen nodded at the musicians, got up and joined the other two men at one of the high tables, though, he seemed to relax again.  
Padalecki nodded at him. “Jensen, this is Chad Michael Murray, one of my oldest friends.” Jensen shook the offered hand and smiled.  
“I gotta say, even if that’s not exactly my kind of music, I liked your performance. It was better than the Jazz they played before, at least.”  
“Chad's not exactly a jazz lover,” Padalecki said, half-smiling at his friend.  
“That's putting it nicely,” the other man answered.   
“Oh, my momma taught me well after all,” Padalecki said. “Remember what she used to -”  
Murray held up his hand to stop him. “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say it anything at all.´” He grimaced. “I must have heard that one, what, 4000 times?”  
Padalecki chuckled. “Not that it helped much…”  
“Hey! I can be a perfect gentleman when I want to! I just don’t see the appeal most of the time!”  
Jensen watched their bickering with fascination. It strongly reminded him of the way he and Mack, or his friends, interacted, and it wasn’t something he’d have associated with a man like Padalecki, or what he’d seen of him so far. He was pulled from his musings by Fuller, once again, who came to their table.  
“Jared, let me introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Steward over there. You don’t mind me borrowing him for a while, do you?”  
Murray made an airy gesture with his hand, and Fuller pulled Padalecki over to the other end of the room. An awkward moment of silence followed.   
To break it, Jensen blurted out, “So, uh - you and Padalecki seem to know each other really well. Have you grown up together?”  
Murray grinned. “Almost like brothers. We went to college together, roommates, you know? It´s a special bond.” He nodded at himself, clearly remembering a few things from their past. “Spent a lot of time back at his family’s home, too. I didn’t see his father much, he passed away pretty early, but his mother - she’s a force of nature. And a perfect lady, of course.” He sniggered at something only he could see in his mind. “You wouldn’t want to get in between Mrs. Padalecki and her goals, I can tell you that.”  
Jensen tried envisioning Jared and an imaginary mother, but his mind only came up with the image of a tall, regal woman who was rather intimidating. He shook his head. “I only know him as a public figure, and he always seems so distant, closed off, almost, when he’s in public. And then, when he seems to feel more relaxed, he’s a whole different person.”  
Murray watched his friend talking for a while. “Jared's a good man,” he finally said. “He's doing a lot of charity, of course, but most of it quietly. But he’s also - he’s a good friend.”  
Jensen looked at him, eyebrows raised. Murray took a sip of his beer.  
“He just recently saved a good friend from a really bad life decision. The man was about to start a serious relationship with someone whose goals were more than doubtful. A fortune-hunter, you know? And his friend's still quite young, and rather… naïve. Being rich has its perks, but it can make finding a true, honest relationship difficult. Jared has enough experience with that kind of…problem. So he convinced his friend to pull back from a relationship that clearly was encouraged by a family in desperate need of money.”  
Jensen froze. His skin prickled unpleasantly. “You, uhm - you don’t happen to know more details, do you?”  
Murray shook his head. “I only know that he stayed with his friend to evaluate one of the man’s companies. It was a rather long process, time enough for the man to fall for some girl at the place. It was a close call, obviously.”  
Jensen was speechless. When someone approached them, pulling Murray away to some other room, he barely registered the man’s good bye. He stumbled through a few of the halls until he found Danneel. When she spotted him, she waved.  
“Jensen! Where have you been? I could need your help here, you know - you weren’t hiding already, were you?” She shot him a scrutinizing glance, and frowned. “Hey, everything okay?”  
Jensen shook his head. “I - I’m not sure, I - never mind. What do you need my help with?”  
She stared at him for a moment, clearly debating if she should dig further into it, but then shrugged. “Okay, so Fuller wants me to schmooze the guests and make them drink more of the champagne to `get them into the spirit´ or something like that. You feeling up to that?”  
They did exactly that, until the whole crowd was asked to sit down in yet another stylish hall. The wide round tables held elegant place cards. Jensen was glad he hadn’t been separated from Danneel, and was far away from Fuller and the couple he very obviously wanted to impress most, a tall man with a wolfish grin that Jensen vaguely recognized from the news, and his sharp-tongued wife, who Fuller seemed honestly terrified of.  
He followed Danneel´s lead, trying to contribute to the conversation as best he could. They luckily were seated next to an older couple who seemed friendlier and less divorced from Jensen´s reality than the rest of the guests. He even found some common ground with the man, who introduced himself as Jim Beaver. When he started telling stories about his many travels to Japan, Jensen, who adored Japanese graphic novels and manga, managed to have quite an interesting discussion on Japanese art with him. He was even lucky enough to get the man’s business card after dessert, when Fuller took his place on a stage at the far end of the room, and began his speech.   
The next hour was torture. Fuller talked enthusiastically about their actual or to-be clients, and the exceptional work the company was all too willing to do for them. He especially mentioned Padalecki, among others, singing his praises, envisioning a wonderful relationship between their companies. After Fuller had finished, everyone got up again to enjoy yet another treat in a different room.   
Jensen couldn´t help but watch Padalecki talk from afar, every inch the successful businessman, smooth and confident, head to toe. Jensen felt sick. He thought of Mack, how happy she’d been the weeks before Collins had left, and how she’d only been a shell of herself afterwards.  
All of a sudden, he couldn’t stand it anymore. Danneel still had to stay until the end, though, and he wasn’t going to abandon her, so he went to find a quiet place somewhere to hide from all the pomp for a while, and think. At the end of one of the long hallways, he entered a smaller, more intimate room; paintings were displayed on the walls, all of them modern landscapes. He wandered around, glancing at fierce brush strokes, generous splashes of grey, green and blue; the pictures all showed rainy, some even stormy scenes. It fit his mood perfectly. One of the paintings pulled him in particularly; it showed a wide park-like landscape, hills rolling down to a river, or creek. Dark trees were shaken by gushes of heavy rain; he could almost taste the satiated earth on his tongue, feel the fresh raindrops on his skin. A tiny figure was just about visible in the midst of the stormy nature, leaning against some decrepit structure, seeking shelter from the storm.  
He stared at the painting, even got up to examine the texture, the way the colors were applied. From up close, he only saw chaos, wild strokes of paint and splashes of grey and blue on a darker background. Sitting down on the leather bench set in the middle of the room, he studied the picture from afar: Now the chaos turned into a landscape again, shaken by wild and untamed elements.  
“Breathtaking, isn’t it?”  
Jensen jerked around at the voice at his back. Padalecki stood in the door, leaning against the doorframe. He was looking at the painting, but when Jensen got up, he glanced his way and pushed himself off the wall, standing close to Jensen. “I've always liked the rain. How it makes the ground and the air smell after a hot day, and its splattering on the windows at night…sometimes I come here during summer, when it´s all heat and sun outside, and just look at these paintings. You can almost taste the rain on your tongue, can't you? Makes me feel like on rainy days during summer holidays again when I was a child., watching the storm blow through our garden and the fields below…” He seemed lost in some memory for a moment.  
Jensen glanced at him from the corner of his eye. Padalecki`s shoulders were relaxed, hands stuffed deep in his dress pants´ pockets. Once again, Jensen was intrigued by the two faces the man seemed to carry around.   
“Do you love the rain, too? Or are you just interested in modern art in general?”  
Jensen frowned. Murray’s words were still echoing in his mind.  
“I was just looking for a quiet place,” he said. “The crowd tonight’s not exactly my… thing.” He stared at the picture in front of them. “But yes, I do like art, and I guess rain has always given me a sense of…quiet. People stay inside, everything seems to slow down a little, when the world is swallowed by the rain.” He remembered the sound of the water tinkling in their drainpipes, the soft tapping of drops against his windowsill. He loved falling asleep to these sounds. Loved feeling safe and sheltered in his bed's cocoon.  
“The blues gone grey, and the browns gone grey, and yellow a terrible amber…” he murmured.  
“What's that?”  
Jensen stirred, ripped from his memories. “Uh… nothing, just…some poem we read in school, I think.”  
They stood in silence for a moment. Then Padalecki cleared his throat.  
“Listen, I - I wanted to thank you, for singing earlier. I didn’t mean to, uh, have you forced to perform or anything. I just - I really enjoyed your performance at Misha´s ball, and…it means a lot to me that you, uh… made us this gift tonight.”  
Jensen huffed. Sure, Padalecki seemed to mean what he said, he sounded almost endearingly shy, stammering his way through, but after Murray's words, Jensen couldn’t appreciate it. Maybe that was just one of the other man’s many ways to manipulate others? A perfect act.  
“Yeah, like I had any chance to decline,” he said, jaw clenched. “Like I would risk my best friend's job by saying no, when her boss made it perfectly clear he expected me to jump at your wishes.” He glared at Padalecki, and saw him frown.   
“I'm sorry. I wasn’t aware Fuller put you in such a - dilemma. It certainly wasn’t my intention to force you in any way… believe me, I only wanted to hear you sing again.”  
Jensen shook his head. “Why?”  
Padalecki looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Why what?”  
“Why are you so keen on hearing me sing? I’m an amateur, I don’t even have much practice lately, I just - I fool around with my friends, that’s all. I’m sure any of the musicians tonight could have given you a better performance of the song.”  
Padalecki glanced down at him, shaking his head. “That's not - Jensen, even if you’re an amateur, your voice is unique, and beautiful. But that’s not even - it´s not your voice alone. The way you sing… it´s like hearing the song all fresh, and new. You fill every word, every note with meaning, with emotions, it´s - it´s like you put your all into it, every moment. Like you make yourself vulnerable, by letting us look into your soul when you sing. And that’s - that’s a unique thing, Jensen, and an invaluable gift to those who have the honor of listening to you.”  
Jensen stared at him. What the hell? He had the unexpected pleasure of seeing the other man blush.  
“I, uh…” Jensen was at loss at what to say. So was the other man, it seemed. Gone was Jared Padalecki, the confident business man, gone, the slightly arrogant expression on his face.   
Padalecki seemed to pull himself together fast, though. When he started talking again, his voice and manner of speaking were those of the perfectly controlled public figure again. His face was a different story, though.  
“I really like you, Jensen. I - you have intrigued me like no one else in a long time. I know it sounds a little crazy, as we haven’t spent a lot of time together; but what I know about you, and what I’ve had the pleasure of seeing of you so far, has bewitched me completely. I know we are not exactly traveling the same circuits, our walk of life, and background, couldn’t be more diverse; I am aware that it would be quite a step for you to take, getting comfortable in the kind of social life I have to lead, the public eye constantly watching.”  
Jensen was dumbfounded. Was he - was Padalecki seriously - was he proposing or what? For a moment, he even forgot his anger.  
“What - I don't understand. What are you saying, exactly?”  
Padalecki stepped closer, his eyes boring into Jensen´s.  
“Jensen, I - I fell for you the moment I saw you dance at that ball, and sing with your friends. Then you came to Misha´s house, and were so vividly taking part in the conversation; just like you did tonight, at your table. Mr. Beaver had the highest praises for you, and he’s not easy to impress, I must say.” Padalecki smiled down at him. “Your performance tonight, singing a simple song with so much…passion, despite the awkward situation… I felt enchanted. I still do.” He took one more step, laying his big, yet slender hands on Jensen´s arms.   
“I´d very much like to meet you again, Jensen, and more often. My schedule can be pretty challenging, but - would you consider going on a date with me? Or several? I haven’t been in a serious relationship for a long time, but with you - with you I´d want to try, against all odds.”  
Jensen stared at the man, speechless. He tried digesting all the information he’d been flooded with. Words tumbled through his mind - bewitched, intrigued, walk of life, Mr. Beaver, the image of Padalecki, dancing at the ball, relaxed and carefree, his stony face at the town’s welcome event. Then the last part of Padalecki´s speech registered with him. Date? Serious relationship? Against - against all odds? What odds? His `gold digging´ family?  
“Are you serious?”, he asked, feeling the anger boil up somewhere in his tummy. “You're joking, right? This is a joke.”  
Padalecki frowned. “I can assure you I couldn't be farther from joking, Jensen. Why would you think that?” He seemed honestly offended. Jensen clenched his teeth.  
“I don't know,” he said. “Maybe because you showed nothing but arrogance back in my hometown? Ignoring everyone you think beyond yourself, not dancing, not even talking to people at the Town Hall?” He glared at the other man. A sharp line formed in between Padalecki’s eyes. “That first night, you seemed to emanate nothing but arrogance, and it wasn’t even the worst!” Jensen felt his cheeks grow warm with righteous indignation.  
Padalecki seemed as confused as he looked irritated. “I am well aware that I can seem a little - stand-offish, I have been accused of it before, although I can assure you that I'm not consciously doing it, but I'm not aware of anything else I could be accused of?”  
Jensen grit his teeth. “I had a very interesting conversation with your old friend - Murray, was it? - earlier.” Padalecki´s face showed nothing but curiosity. It did nothing to calm Jensen´s growing anger.   
“He told me an interesting story about you. How you heroically saved a good friend from the fangs of a - a girl who was only the puppet of her - her gold digging family.”   
Padalecki look first surprised, then had the grace to look embarrassed, then he went for defiantly arrogant. He drew himself up a little. “I don’t regret giving Mr. Collins the advice to break contact with your sister, Jensen. It was, and still is, the only way of preventing him from doing something stupid!”  
“What, by breaking my sister's heart? By just - vanishing, leaving her in despair? She’s barely 18, dammit! And she – she’s never been in love before!”  
Padalecki frowned. “I am sure love is too strong a word. A crush, maybe, a strong fling, given they both are so young -”  
“And who are you to be the judge of that! You don’t even know my sister! You haven’t seen her before - before she got sick, and you haven’t been there, watching her take the curveballs fate has been throwing at her for years, and never giving up, or losing her spirit! Congratulations, Padalecki, you’ve accomplished what even a cruel illness couldn’t do. But of course, you only did your fucking duty as a good friend, didn’t you? Saving Collins from my - my gold digging family, right?” He was shaking by then, his hands balled into tight fists by his sides.  
Padalecki straightened up. “I'm sorry if I misjudged the situation, but the overall behavior your family showed -”  
“Overall behavior? What are you talking about!”  
“Well, for example, your mother parading you and your sister in front of people, practically shoving her into Mr. Collin's arms! Forgive me if I started to be suspicious after such a display of - of obscene pandering!”  
“Did my sister ever give you the impression she was part of this- this pandering?”  
“No! But she seemed overly eager to take up as much of Misha´s time as possible!”  
“That's because she is a teen, dammit, she's in a freaking wheelchair, and Misha´s been the first guy to treat her like a - a normal girl! Seeing her, not her illness! Do you have any idea how hard it is for her to find someone like that? To be treated like that?”   
It was satisfying to see a flash of remorse cross over Padalecki´s face. Jensen was on a run, and man, did it feel good to let out all the things that had been shoved down for weeks, boiling and festering. He huffed. “But I guess it would be too much to ask of you to understand that, wouldn’t it - seeing as you threw your own childhood friend under the bus, the first possibility you got! Getting rid of him, the moment he got in your way!”  
At that, Padalecki flinched. “What are you talking about?”  
“Tom Welling!”  
“Tom Welling?” Padalecki repeated, taking a step back. Jensen didn’t miss the disgusted expression on his face.   
“He told me everything, Padalecki, how you were best friends as kids, and how you kicked him out, robbing him of a bright future, just because you were jealous! I guess that’s your MO, isn’t it? You see something good, and happy, something you don’t, or can’t have, so you destroy it! And you don’t give a damn about whose happiness you take away with it!” Jensen was half aware that he was being overly dramatic, and probably too harsh, but he couldn't help it - Mack's devastated face was at the front of his mind, and the way she had tried, and failed, to still show the world a tough front. So he just barreled on, “I don’t understand why you would even ask me out, given how you judge my family, but let me assure you - you are the last person in the world I could ever be convinced to go on a date with!”  
Somehow, they had moved closer again, Jensen practically bristling and snorting in   
Padalecki´s face. His ears were ringing, from emotion, probably, his whole body seemed coiled like a bow, ready to go off. He had never felt like that before. Padalecki stared down at him, his face barely an inch from Jensen´s; and for a moment, Jensen thought (or hoped? He was too confused, too agitated to tell) the man would kiss him. There was anger in his eyes, regret, longing, and for a moment, a vulnerability Jensen had never seen there before.  
But then, Padalecki´s gaze seemed to retreat, gloss over, his face pulled back into its usual, professional mask. He straightened up again, shoulders pulled back, no trace of the turmoil visible in his face anymore. Stepping back, he spoke quietly, perfectly polite.  
“I'm sorry to have misjudged your sister's feelings for Mr. Collins, causing her pain through my advice. I can only repeat that it was given with the best of intentions. As to the question of dating - as you see my actions with such contempt, I ask you to forget I ever asked.” He took another step back. “Forgive me, for bothering you. It won’t happen again.” With that, he turned abruptly, and left.  
Jensen sank down on the bench, suddenly feeling drained of all energy. He stared at the painting in front of him, greys and blues, dark greens and blacks. It was how Danneel found him, hours later: still staring at the painted rain, and the little, lonely figure thrown into the storm.


	13. Journeys

Mack returned from the new therapy less than a week later, and life at their home went back to the routine it had had before the town had been rattled by the charming Mr. Collins and his entourage. At the company, no one was able - or willing - to tell what the verdict would be, giving room to a lot of speculation, which died down after a while. Everyone just seemed to be glad to still have a job, and hoped for the best. The knowledge that someday, sooner or later, many of the families could lose their main source of income if case Collins & Sheppard decided to close the company after all, weighed on everyone’s conscience, though, like a bad taste sticking around, no matter how often you rinsed your mouth.   
The gloomy atmosphere reached well into Jensen´s home. His father knew damn well how hard it would be to find a new job at his age, should he loose the one he had at Collins & Sheppard, and Mack, although she seemed okay on the face of it , still lacked the spirit Jensen was used to finding in her. Sometimes he wondered if he had maybe just gotten used to seeing her as lively and sparkling as she’d been when Mr. Collins had been around, and if she’d now returned to a more reticent, quiet personality that had always been there; but even if he tried, he couldn’t really back up his own thoughts with facts. Mack had always been outgoing, vivacious, driven, and many times - especially to her older brothers, when they were young children - annoying; they’d had their fair share of fighting, arguing and bickering, after all.  
Now, she was immersed in schoolwork, especially after having been gone for weeks for her therapy. Graduation was coming up, with all the stressful exams, assignments and projects it brought with it. She laughed, she even went out with her friends, or rather invited them home for study groups and the occasional movie; but, much like with his father, Jensen could always feel this faint dejection in her, like the ghost of a dark cloud hanging around wherever she went.   
He did his best to live up to the role of supportive brother he took pride in, and otherwise tried to pull as many hours at his various jobs as he could, just in case their financial situation should deteriorate. In the remaining free time, he worked on his graphic novel. He’d gotten some new inspiration after his discussion with the knowledgeable Mr. Singer, or after Steve and the band had returned from their last tour, sometimes enjoyed jamming and hanging out with them.   
Weeks flew by, winter finally seemed to have had enough and retreated, to give way to a wet, windy spring. Even if he spoke to Danni regularly, laughing or sympathizing with her, according to what hilarious stories or juicy complaints she had to offer, he had to admit that life, all in all, had a somewhat duller quality to it now. Or was that just himself, sulking? Thinking about what possibilities he'd turned down, what doors had closed on them?   
So, being honest with himself, when he got the offer to accompany Steve, Jason and Chris on a short weekend tour, as a payed helping hand, no less, to a festival in Texas, he struggled only for a short time with his conscience. His struggles were ended resolutely by Mack, who simply told him she’d personally pack him into one of the band's spacious equipment boxes and send him on his way, should he stay home and mother-hen her one more day. He agreed, and a couple weeks later, they were on their way down south.

 

The Country Folk Spring Festival was one of the smaller ones, sought out by people who didn’t look for big names, huge crowds and endless toilet lines, but were interested in more intimate concert settings, and happy to discover new bands and groups. For some of the musicians, playing there had been the kickoff of to big careers, had ended up in solid record deals, or in invitations to other well-known festivals. That’s why Jensen´s friends were understandably excited to be invited. The whole, considerably long drive to Texas, they were hyped up in a way Jensen hadn’t seen them in a long while. It was contagious. He couldn’t deny that the trip with his friends was exactly what he’d needed after the gloomy weeks at home.  
The festival’s location turned out to be a beautifully restored, traditional farm house, or rather a ranch, complete with huge barns, stables, cowsheds and paddocks. It belonged to a foundation putting considerable amounts of money into buying and restoring historical buildings that would otherwise decay and crumble or be rebuilt beyond recognition. The foundation also found new purposes for the buildings, opening them to the public, giving them a new life.  
Steve, Chris and Jason were booked for both Friday and Saturday evening concerts, which meant a whole lot of hauling equipment, doing several sound-checks, waiting backstage and getting ready to play; yet they still had enough time to mingle with other musicians, and listen to several of the other bands. Jensen was impressed by the sheer number of groups that were invited; the organizational team sure knew what it was doing, making everything run without a hitch. He personally witnessed them doing stressful last-minute adjustments, given the usual imponderables when dealing with people, from musicians not showing up, to others missing their flights or ending up on the side of the road with broken trucks, to lost instruments or, in one case, lead singers. Still, the whole team managed to stay impressively calm and friendly, at least as far as Jensen could see. They also seemed to have a lot of fun doing their jobs, stressful, long hours be damned.  
He was looking forward to Sunday, though, when they’d finally be able to just stroll around and listen to others playing. The festival traditionally ended in the early afternoon, giving everyone the chance to get packed and back home without a hurry. They'd decided to leave early on Monday morning, which gave them plenty of time to enjoy the Sunday concerts and get some much needed rest before going home.  
Wandering around in between the huge barns, now filled with chairs and stages, they finally found themselves at the very last performance, given by “The Spunky Chicks”, a group of young women none of them had ever heard of, nevertheless leaving them quite speechless with their rousing performance, getting the whole barn full of tired, bleary-eyed people on their feet, clapping, dancing and shouting. Jensen was watching and listening, fascinated by the passion he heard in the singer’s voice, the joy he saw in the musician’s faces, they got to do what they loved most, and probably did best, in their lives, and didn’t hide it.   
When finally the clapping, stomping and cheering had died down, and the five young women had left the stage, Jensen turned to his friends, only to find Steve snoring on his chair, and Jason and Chris both staring at the empty stage with glassy eyes.  
“Awesome finale, huh?” he said, grinning at Jason, who seemed dumbfounded.   
Chris turned their way, the spell finally broken. “Were they - were they even real? Did you see that girl on the bass? I mean - I know I’m not bad, but that - that- and the drummer, man, that girl has some power…”  
“Yeah…” was all Jason got out. “Did you hear what they did with the guitar and bass in that slow ballad almost at the end? I could swear I’ve heard that motive before…but the way they had the voices intertwine, and that subtle drum base…” He seemed far away, lost in his analytical thoughts. Jason was the only one of them who’d studied music for real, with a college degree and everything. Sometimes Jensen was awed by the fact that his friend could visibly enjoy listening to a piece of music, or playing it, at that, while his brain was dissecting and analyzing its parts and the performance as well.   
“We gotta try and talk to them,” Chris announced. He was a man on a mission, so they shook Steve from his slumber and went to the backstage area, only to find out the girls had already left and were not available for autographs, photos or chats. Chris looked disappointed. “Did they beam them out or what? Hey, maybe they’re Aliens! That’s why they’re so freakishly good!” His good spirits returned soon enough, when they all decided to get beers and some lunch at one of the bars. Even Steve woke up fully after a hearty Festival Burger. Jensen had been studying one of the flyers he'd found in a stand on the bar's counter, offering information on the farm history and the whole renovating process.  
“Hey, there’s guided tours today! A special offer for festival guests. They even open up the private parts of the ranch!”  
Looking up, he found Chris rolling his eyes, Steve glancing at him with a slightly painful expression on his face, and Jason grinning at him.  
“What?” he asked.   
Jason chuckled. “Your enthusiasm about old buildings has always amazed me. It´s kinda cute.”  
Jensen crossed his arms. ”t´s not - cute. It´s just - a hobby, alright? Buildings are fascinating.” He ignored Steve's snort. “So - are you in? The tour starts at -” he looked at the leaflet again – “4pm. One of the ranch’s former employees will be the guide, it says.”  
Chris sighed. “As long as you promise you won’t wax on about… support beams and ornamental woodwork and proportions and what not for hours…”  
Jensen gave him a nice punch in the arm for that. “Hey, that was one time! And you don’t hear me complaining about you droning on about some `mind-blowing´ 8 minute drum solo for hours!”  
“That's because you are secretly fascinated by it too!”  
“Yeah, you tell yourself that…” Jensen said, not able to hide his grin though. Chris was right. the endless discussions between his friends, especially at late hours, about everything music, would probably seem random, redundant and exhausting to most people, but he enjoyed them. Mostly.   
He looked at Steve and Jason expectantly. “I'm in,” Jason simply said.  
“Can't say no to that face, can I?” Steve grumbled. “I´ll need another beer first, though.”

 

The tour turned out to be fairly extensive, starting at the old stables, giving them a glimpse into the new ones at the far end of the vast paddocks.   
“No one's allowed back here normally, it´s all courtesy to the owner's infatuation with the music,” their grumpy looking, but intimidatingly competent guide Rufus said.  
They visited the long, flat building that used to house the farm hands´ accommodations now turned into simple, but charming, guest rooms. Finally, they went up the steps to the main house, a mostly wooden structure of impressive size, a wide porch running around the whole building, as far as Jensen could see.  
“The owners are home at the moment, so we can't see all the rooms, but you’ll get to see most of them anyway. So the whole structure is built of…”  
Jensen listened, fascinated by the guide's detailed knowledge, and his willingness to answer their additional questions. They wandered from room to hallway to room, admiring the subtle, yet stunning renovations done to the house (Jensen) or the assembly of vintage country festival posters on the walls (Chris and Steve). Jensen couldn't help laughing at them when they started positively drooling over a fine collection of vintage guitars in one of the large rooms, though.   
“And I'm the one who’s `waxing on´ about something, huh?”  
He left them behind, engrossed in a discussion with the guide, who obviously also knew quite a bit more about music and instruments than he’d let on before. Strolling through another long hallway, into an adjacent room, he spotted a door standing slightly ajar at the end. He thought he’d heard music coming from the direction of the door, and let his curiosity get the better of him, opening the door just a little bit wider so he could peek inside.  
A young woman was sitting at a piano, one of those big concert hall ones, playing some jazzy tune that sounded vaguely familiar. He could only see her back and part of her profile. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed completely immersed in her music. Which, he had to admit, pulled him in immediately, with its slow, but steadily dragging rhythm, the sometimes painfully beautiful chords. He felt like he was violating the intimacy of her playing, yet couldn’t stop listening, or staring; she seemed so in tune with the world, so at peace, and he felt enchanted by her music, which slowly came to an end, a few last notes trickling away like water droplets. Jensen saw her smile, eyes still closed. The sound of a door opening somewhere in the room had her look up, and turn, and the next moment, a very girly squeal made him jerk back from the door. The girl, or rather, young woman, hopped up from her stool, right into the arms of someone approaching her, someone tall and broad shouldered with longish hair, as far as Jensen could see.   
“Jare-bear!” she screamed, wrapping her legs around the man’s waist. She looked so delighted, Jensen couldn’t help but smile. “You're here! Why didn’t you tell me?” She playfully slapped the man’s shoulder. “We did it, Jare! We had our first performance! And it was - it was -”  
The man laughed, a deep, resonating sound that hit Jensen right in the gut. And a little lower.  
“Who says I didn’t hear you, munchkin?” the man said, and Jensen frowned. The voice sounded familiar. “I was there the whole time. And I think the word you are looking for is, spectacular!. Because you were. Never thought I´d see you out of words, though…”  
“You were there? For the whole concert?” She hugged him tightly, before pulling back a little, boxing his arm. Jensen could feel the phantom pain. “Why didn’t you tell us? You’re such a jerk!”  
That laugh again. And then the man spun the young woman around, while she was still clinging to him like a long-limbed monkey and Jensen saw his face. And gasped, taking a step back, stumbling against some small table standing against the wall, which of course had to make the most horrific noise, screeching back over the wooden floor. He just stood there, frozen in place. Both faces of the people he'd been watching turned his way, the door was opened wide by a long arm, and the girl put down on the floor in one swift move.  
Jensen just stared. Unable to move, or even gulp, or blink. Unfortunately, the ground did not open and swallow him, which would have been the only event saving him from the tsunami of embarrassment drowning him.  
“Jensen!?”  
Jared Padalecki´s incredulous eyes stared right back at him. “What - what are you doing here?”  
Jensen felt the skin heat on his face, his throat, right down his chest. “I, uhh - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to spy on you, we were just doing the guided tour, and I - the music…look, I’m so sorry I bothered you, I´ll just be gone, please forget I’ve ever been here…” His rambling died, he was biting his bottom lip and couldn’t stop it, and he barely could restrain himself from literally wringing his arms like a 19th century damsel.  
“Oh, but that’s - that’s okay! You’re - you’re not bothering us, right, Meg?” Padalecki smiled wide at him, then at the young woman at his side, who glanced curiously from him to Jensen.  
“Oh, where are my manners! Jensen, this is Megan, my obnoxious little sister!” His speech was followed by an “Ouch!” when said sister punched his arm. “Hey!”  
“You deserve it, for introducing me like that!” She glared at his grinning face, then turned to Jensen, reaching out her hand. “Hi, I’m Megan, the long-suffering, yet gracious little sister of this Sasquatch here!”  
Jensen shook the offered hand, feeling as if he’d entered an Alternate Universe. “I'm - I’m Jensen.”  
She surveyed him, eyes twinkling. “You don’t seem too sure about that…”  
Padalecki - her big brother, and wow, Jensen had to get his head around the fact that freaking Jared Padalecki was just a normal human being, with `obnoxious´ little sisters and all, shot her a stern look.   
“Stop harassing the man, Megan!” He then turned to Jensen, a smile in his eyes. Jensen had never seen the man so - happy? At ease? Normal?  
“So - you did the house tour? How did you like it? Did you get Rufus to guide you? He’s the one who knows practically everything that’s to know about this place, more than even we do!”  
Jensen blinked. “Yeah, he - Rufus, yes. He is like a walking encyclopedia of this place! I had a great time listening to him.”  
Megan snorted. “Believe me, once you get him going, he can go on about one single room, heck, one single piece of floor board for hours!” She made a grumpy face, imitating the guide's rough voice with her next words. “Be careful, missy, this floor board was put there by the great Doc Campbell himself in 1898, when he built this part of the house for his young wife, the beautiful Juliette! You can still see the small scratch where he missed the nail with his hammer, lost in thought of her perky little butt!”  
“Megan!” The reprieve was accompanied by a chuckle. Padalecki looked at Jensen. “I have to apologize for my sister's behavior. She’s probably a little hyped because of the concert.” His eyes twinkled. Jensen couldn’t help but grin back. “Oh, believe me, I know quite well how little sisters can be.”  
“I know…” They kept looking at each other, Jensen noticing for the first time how enchanting Padalecki´s foxy eyes were, until Megan cleared her throat. Jensen jerked out of his Alternate Universe stupor.  
“So, uh - this maybe sounds like a stupid question, but - do you have connections with the foundation that runs this house or something?” he asked, trying to cover the fact that he was blushing again.  
Megan giggled. “or something,” she said.  
Padalacki shot her an exasperated look, then glanced at Jensen with a smile. “We are the foundation,” he simply said. At Jensen´s surprised look, he chuckled. “This is my family’s ranch. Has been for four generations. I try to spend as much time as possible here, even if that’s not much at the moment.”  
“So - so it was you who started this whole festival?”  
Padalecki nodded, and opened his mouth to say something, but was beaten to it by his sister.  
“He's a complete nerd when it comes to country music! Have you seen his collections? He’s started it before he was even twelve!” She squeezed her brother's waist affectionately. “And he’s totally infected me! He’s helped us so much with the band and everything, and now we’ve had our first appearance and we haven’t even graduated from High School yet!”  
Jensen looked at Padalecki´s slightly blushing face. There was a deep fondness in his eyes, the same he knew he himself felt for his own sister and her passions.  
“I just heard a lot of country music growing up here, and I guess I always associated it with - home”, Padalecki said. ”And once I realized there were so many variations and styles, I really started digging into the history and the more recent evolutions.”  
Jensen nodded. He totally got it how someone could immerse themselves into something they felt a passion about.  
Megan grinned. “He's worse than Rufus when it comes to music!”  
Padalecki shrugged. “I guess I am…”  
“Well, I've been in a car with three music nuts for hours and hours, driving down here, it can’t get worse than that…” Jensen said, smiling at them both.   
“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure…” Megan winked at him. “I suggest you never give them the chance to discuss music with my brother. They would probably never stop!”  
“Actually, that’s a wonderful idea!” Padalecki perked up. “I guess you aren’t leaving tonight, Jensen? Do you have any plans for dinner?”  
“I, uh - no, we don't?”  
“Great!” Padalecki seemed genuinely pleased. “May I invite you and your friends to our `End of the Festival´ dinner, then? It´s right here on the ranch, and everyone who’s involved in the organization will be there.”  
“Oh, that’s - that’s very kind of you, but - we wouldn’t want to intrude on that!”  
Padalecki shook his head. “You wouldn’t, I can assure you! I always bring a few special guests, and Megan and her girls will be there too, so you'll not be the only music group.”  
Jensen could already see Chris´ face when he’d tell him he’d be dining with the Spunky Chicks… he really couldn’t say no to such an offer, could he!  
“Okay, then, thank you. We'll be delighted to come.”  
Padalecki smiled, an open, sunny smile that lit up his whole face. “Great! We'll start at seven, down at the small barn behind the guest houses - you should have visited it on the tour?”  
Jensen nodded. “Rufus told us it´s for special events or private celebrations. He -”  
“There you are! We thought we´d - oh.” Jensen turned in time to see Chris´ dumbfounded face and open mouth, as he was staring at Padalecki.  
“What the hell is Padaleski doing here?”   
Jensen closed his eyes. Leave it to Chris to barge in and insult their host.  
Padalecki grimaced. “Believe it or not, this my house, and I live here, occasionally.”   
“Huh.” Chris´ face was priceless, but his reaction to the revelation was clearly surpassed by the one he showed when he recognized Megan.   
“You!” he cried, eyes widening. “You're one of the Spunky Chicks!”  
Megan smiled sweetly at him. “You've got that right. I’m also the sister of Mr. Padaleski here…” She giggled. Chris seemed dumbstruck for a second, but was back to his usual, flirty self, surprisingly fast. He reached out his hand.   
“I'm Chris! We played on Friday and Saturday, but man, I heard you girls earlier, and you are..”  
“Spectacular,” Jensen, Megan and Padalecki said, speaking as one, grinning.   
Chris looked confused, then he beamed. “Exactly!”  
Jason, Steve and their guide Rufus chose that moment to join them. Proper introductions were made, and Padalecki repeated his invitation to dinner. Jensen feared that Chris would explode or do something totally embarrassing, like fall on his knees and cry, but his friend stayed surprisingly cool, at least until they had finally left the building with the Padaleckis behind them and were walking towards their van.  
“I can’t believe it. First, we get invited down here, and get to play in front of a really savvy audience…then these girls show up and play in a way it makes me weak in my knees, and now the dinner! It´s like a dream come true!” Chris had an unusual bounce in his step.  
“You think Padalecki´s behind our invitation to the festival? He heard us play back home, after all…” Steve looked thoughtful.  
Jason nudged Jensen´s side. “And he isn’t the arrogant douchebag you made him out to be. Not at all! He seemed very down to earth to me, and he really knows his stuff, if his collections are anything to go by.”  
Jensen grimaced. “I know… I can’t figure the man out, to be honest. Sometimes he seems like the worst corporate asshole, the next time I meet him, he’s acting completely different. It´s… unnerving.”  
“Didn't you want to say… intriguing?” Chris’s grin was wide and innocent.  
“No!” Jensen grumbled.   
“I don't know, Jensen…. There seems to be a lot of… tension between the two of you.” Steve winked at Chris.  
“Yeah, the kind that usually ends in a fight, which then ends in bed,” Chris added wisely.  
“Oh, just shut up…”  
His friends only sniggered, and Chris had the audacity to start singing, “Jensen and Jared sitting in a tree…” at least until Jensen hit him over the head with the leaflet he'd brought from the ranch house tour.

 

The dinner, though, turned out to be a comfortable, relaxed event. Jensen couldn't help but pinch his arm from time to time. Padalecki insisted that he sit right beside him, with Jason across the table from them. There never seemed to be a dull moment in conversation; it easily flew from guitars to music and playing styles to favorite bands. The discussion sometimes got heated, what with so many musicians or music-related people in the room, and time flew by.   
When Jared excused himself for a while to talk to his guests and the festival’s employees on the other end of the table, Jensen found himself pulled into a conversation with Megan and Rufus. Turned out Padalecki´s sister intended to study architecture, in the fall and the old farm manager-turned-guide had an immense knowledge of the history of the whole area, which left Jensen listening, completely fascinated. He was so engrossed in a discussion about architectural styles in `classical´ comic books, Japanese manga and graphic novels, something that came up once he´d found out Megan was totally gone for manga, that it took him a while to realize his phone was vibrating in his pocket.  
His mom's number and profile pic showed on his display. Frowning, he excused himself and left the room to return the call. Before he could press the button, though, the vibration started anew.  
“Mom? Hey, what’s up? Everything -”  
“It`s Mack.”   
Cold dread settled in Jensen´s chest, immediately spreading out down his legs and right into his fingertips. “Mack? What’s wrong? Is she - did something -” No words. They were gone, lost, stuck somewhere in between his throat and his lips.  
“She's - we don't know exactly yet, but… they had a party, or something, just a small one over at one of her classmate’s houses, at least that’s what she’d told us, and… there was a bust, by the police, and…” His mother’s voice dissolved into sobbing.  
“Mom, what - what happened! Is she okay? Mom!” There was some noise at the other end of the line.  
“Jensen?”  
“Dad! What the hell is happening?”  
“We’re not sure yet, we’re at the hospital -”  
“The hospital!? Why??”  
“She's - it seems like she took something, and - either there was some reaction with her medication, or the stuff was…contaminated, or whatever you call it, anyway, she - she passed out and -.”  
“What? Is she - is she alright?”  
His father’s sigh was deep. Weary. “She will be, at least - physically.” There was a pause.  
Jensen´s mind stopped whirling for a moment.  
“Wait, what - what do you mean, physically? Is there - is - is something wrong with her brain or…”  
“Oh Jesus, no, no! Sorry, that came out - sorry.” Jensen could hear his father wiping down his hand over his face, the faint scratching sound of his palm against the stubble on his chin.   
“There was a police bust, Jensen. Seems like they got a tip about drugs being sold. And…”  
Jensen listened to the silence on the other end of the line.   
“Dad?”   
Another sigh. “Jensen… they’re saying your sister not only took drugs, but they say she’s also been selling them.”  
“What!?”  
“I know, it sounds…”  
“No way! Dad, she - Mack wouldn’t do that. Never. I’m - I can’t even believe she took anything. She’s not - she’s not that stupid, or, or - irresponsible. No! No way!”   
Jensen had been looking out for his sister his whole life. They were pretty close, bickering and fighting be damned; it´s what all siblings did, in his experience. Maybe his protectiveness was heightened by Mack's illness; maybe it was just normal big brother behavior. Fact was, he had always thought he knew his little sister pretty well.  
“I don't know, Jensen… the police are waiting to, to - ask her a few questions, once the doctors give their consent, I - they - we are allowed to be present. Thank God she’s just not 18 yet.”  
“You did call a lawyer, right? Dad, she can’t -”  
“Of course! I didn’t even know who to call first, we haven’t needed a lawyer in … I don’t even remember.”  
“But you did get someone? Someone good? Just in case.”  
“I remembered that your friend Chris’s father needed a lawyer after his car accident a few years ago, I got the number from him. He’s on his way…”  
“Good. Don't let Mack say a word before he’s there, Dad!”  
His father huffed out a mirthless chuckle. “I know, son…that's what they always say in the TV shows, right?”  
“You don't even watch TV shows, Dad.”  
This time, Jensen heard the faint smile in his father's voice.  
“Well, your mom does, I guess I picked up something along the way.”  
There was a short pause. Jensen listened to the hospital noises in the background.  
“I´ll be on my way right now, Dad. We can be home in - well, tomorrow morning, I guess. The guys will understand.”  
“Don't race up here, Jensen, you hear me? It won't help anyone if you end up having an accident. I’m gonna call your brother, too.”  
“Good. Say hi to Mom and Josh…and Mack. See you, Dad. Keep me posted, okay?”  
“I will… drive safe, boy.”  
“Yeah…and, Dad?” He took a deep breath. “It'll be okay. This is Mack were talking about, right?”  
Another short pause. “Right. See you, son.”  
“Bye, Dad.”  
He just stood there, staring at his phone for a few seconds, wishing he could feel as confident himself.  
“Is - Jensen? Is everything alright?”  
He looked up, into Padalecki´s concerned eyes.  
“I, uh - no, actually, I…” He didn’t even know how to finish the sentence.  
“Jensen? Ah, there you - jeez, man, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Jason frowned at him. “What's wrong?”   
Jensen watched Steve come into the hall behind his friend, his face falling the moment he came closer. “What happened?”   
Jensen liked that about Steve: he got to the point when it was necessary.  
He looked down at his phone once more, then back up at his friends.  
“That was my Mom. And my Dad. Mack's in the hospital.”  
Telling them was almost worse than hearing the whole story from his parents. It made it real, somehow. Jason and Steve stared at him, their faces shocked. He noticed that Padalecki had a deep frown on his face, biting his lower lip.  
“You said they got a lawyer, right?”   
“Yeah. Someone Chris´ dad recommended.”  
„Okay…good. That's good.” Jason’s hand was comforting on Jensen´s. shoulder. “It will be okay, Jense. You’ll see.”  
“Yeah…”  
Padalecki suddenly stepped forward. “I'm really sorry to hear about your sister, Jensen. I agree with your friend, though. It will be alright. I suppose you want to leave?”  
Jensen nodded. Padalecki acknowledged it with short nod. “I see. I wish you and your family all the best.” He straightened his shoulders as if preparing himself for something.  
“I'm sorry, but I have to leave too. Be safe, Jensen, Jason… Steve. It was a pleasure to meet you all, and hearing you perform. My apologies to Chris.” His gaze rested on Jensen for a few seconds, searching, for what, Jensen had no idea. His mind was a mess, he wasn’t even sure what he was thinking himself. Or if he was thinking anything at all.  
“I hope to see you all soon,” Padalecki said, nodding once, and turning to leave through the wide doors at the end of the hall.  
Jensen stared after his retreating figure, feeling oddly lost.  
“Jensen?” Steve shook his arm lightly. “Come on, let’s get on the road.”  
“We gotta get Chris…” Jason murmured.  
Twenty minutes later, they were crammed into the tour van again, driving down the long winding road leading up to the ranch, the strings of lights that were still illuminating the barns slowly vanishing in the darkness behind them.

 

“And - that’s it? They just let her go like that?”  
Alan Ackles raised his arms and let them fall again, shaking his head. “I am just as confused as everyone else. I guess this lawyer really is worth his money. Must have been his doing.”  
Jensen scratched his front. “What was his name again?”  
“Uh… Rosenbaum. To be honest, when the guy waltzed into the hospital and said he would be taking on our case, I thought - no way I can afford this guy. I mean, his suit alone looked like it cost more than our house, you know what I mean?” Alan shook his head incredulously. “And then he goes on and says he’ll do it pro bono. Just like that. I can’t even remember the story he spun us about the why and how…”  
Jensen bit his lower lip. “Weird…but, well, they do that, right? Pro bono jobs and such. Maybe he needed some good Karma or something…”  
His father huffed. “Believe me, Rosenbaum didn’t seem in need of anything. But who knows, right? And who cares anyway! The important thing is that he did an excellent job.”  
Jensen glanced at his father’s happy face. Finally, he felt the tension seep out of his shoulders.  
“And he said there wouldn’t be any more - questions? Interrogations?”  
Alan shook his head. “He - Jensen, you should have seen the man. He crushed them. Without so much as raising an eyebrow. It was - well, pretty impressive, I must say.”  
Leaning back, Jensen allowed a small grin to tug at his lips. “So – it’s over?”  
“It´s over.” His father’s relieved smile mirrored Jensen´s own. “And - Rosenbaum gave us his card, with his private number and everything. Should anything else happen, we call him, immediately. No matter the time or occasion - his words, not mine.” He scratched his head, a slightly bewildered expression on his face. Jensen could relate.  
He rubbed his eyes. The whole drive up home had been tense and uncomfortable; he’d been unable to sleep or relax, thoughts twirling around in his mind, pictures of Mack in handcuffs, hunted by eager press and media, haunting him as soon as he closed his eyes. They’d been held up by an accident. When they finally arrived at the hospital it was mid-morning. He found his parents in a confused, but relieved state. His mom started crying nevertheless, but they were tears of relief. Mack was being screened one last time, and would be sent home later in the day, his father told him. And the accusations - they were gone. No charges.  
Exhaustion tugged at Jensen´s body and mind; but he hadn’t seen his sister yet, and had refused to go home and get some sleep, like he’d forced Jason, Steve and Chris to do earlier. His mom had left to prepare the house since Josh had insisted on flying down to help, even if there wasn’t much to help with anymore. Jensen knew it was her way of dealing.   
“Dad?”  
His father jerked, obviously having dozed off a little. “What's up?”  
“Uh, Mack, she - she’ll be okay, right? I mean…”  
His father sighed. “How did she take it? The whole…story?”  
Jensen nodded. “Yeah.”  
Alan looked pensive. “I think… she’s the strongest person I know. But she’s had a few setbacks, lately, and now this…” He sighed. “I do hope she looks at her so-called friends with new eyes, though.”  
“Do you think - do you think someone set her up? Does Mack believe that?”  
Alan slowly shook his head. “I - honestly, I don’t know what to believe. But the anonymous tip must have come from somewhere, right? And how did the police pick out Mack, specifically?”  
Jensen rubbed his front. A headache was steadily building behind his eyes, and all his rubbing wasn’t helping. “Dad, how… did she tell you anything about … about taking the drugs?”  
At that, Alan sighed again. “She - no. As long as Rosenbaum was here, he wouldn’t let her so much as open her mouth anyway, and then the doctors wanted to finish their scans. Guess we’ll have to talk once we're all home.”  
Jensen couldn’t say he was looking forward to that talk. Not at all.

 

In the end, they didn’t really talk much. They were all tired, exhausted; and everyone was just so glad, and happy, to see Mack back from the hospital well, unharmed, and free of charges, that the short evening turned more into a display of warring emotions than a serious heart-to-heart.   
Mack was pale, but okay. The final results of her tox screen would be ready the next day. Jensen looked forward to it with mixed feelings. Mack, however, was adamant that she hadn’t taken anything.  
“I know I’ve been kinda down and moody lately, but seriously - I’m not dumb. I feel kinda offended that everyone thinks I’m even capable of doing something so stupid!” She seemed honestly pissed, especially when they started speculating on how the drugs had ended up in her system and even more so when it came to the `anonymous tip´.   
Jensen was secretly glad to see some of her fire come back; the occasion was a shitty one, sure, but it brought back the spark he'd been missing in his sister for weeks now.   
It didn’t go unnoticed though that underneath the anger, Mack still seemed deeply sad.   
Jensen´s heart ached for her. His own feelings had been quite a mess, especially since the trip to Texas and his last encounter with one Jared Padalecki. They all went to bed early, events and emotions taking their toll on them all.   
Jensen sneaked into his sister’s room for a moment, though.  
“Hey.”  
“Hey, yourself.”  
Jensen sat down on her bed. “Are you okay?”  
She shrugged. “Tired. And pissed. And - I don’t know. But I´ll be okay.” Her smile looked sincere.  
“That's… good. I was…we all were so worried.”  
“I know.” She fiddled with the hem of her quilt. „But I´d never do something like that. Never. You know that, right?”  
He bit his lips. “I, uh… I'm sorry, Mack. For doubting you. But you’ve been through a lot, lately, and - I dunno. Guess I was being an idiot.”  
“Well, that’s nothing new, then.”   
He chuckled. “Yeah…you're right about that.” His fingers followed the stitching on her quilt, the lines and twirls his grandmother had sewn into it, many years ago.  
He felt her eyes on him for a few seconds. “Jensen… are you okay?”  
He glanced up at her, caught by her question. “Sure. Why do you ask?”  
She squinted at him. “You seem…different. You have been for a while now.”  
It was his turn to shrug. “Guess there´ve been changes for all of us.”  
“I know…” She leaned back into her pillows. Jensen got up, wiping his hand down his face. “Night, little sis.”  
“Night, big bro.”  
He was already at the door when he heard the words she added.  
“Thanks for being here, Jen…”  
He smiled back at her, a little choked up. “Always.”  
His parents had already gone to bed by the time he emerged from his sister’s room. He stood in his own bedroom, staring out the window, watching the quiet street for a good while, sluggish thoughts whirling around in his head. Finally, he gave up and crawled under his covers. Once his head hit the cushions, he was asleep within minutes.

 

All the sleep he'd gotten did not prepare him for the chaos that was the next day.


	14. Unexpected Visitors

Waking up well rested, and with nowhere to be, was a little like that feeling on the first day of the school summer holidays. He reveled in it, just a little bit; snuggled into his duvet, watching the rays of sunshine wander along the ceiling, flecks of dust dancing in front of the window. It was still very early. With all his morning shifts at the cafe, he'd turned into quite the early riser, and they’d gone to sleep at a ridiculous hour the evening before after all.  
Stretching, he listened to the quiet house, the faint birdsong coming in from the street. It felt peaceful. He might be in his mid-twenties, still living at his parent’s place, working two badly paid jobs he was clearly over-qualified for, enough college loans on his back to last him a decade and he was still depressingly single. But on this morning, with the birds singing outside, his parents still asleep, his sister safe and sound downstairs, and his older brother on the way, who he hadn’t seen since Christmas,, he refused to think about all of that. At least for a while.  
He got up. On his drawing desk, piles of sketches and studies were stacked as neatly as he'd left them, his laptop and drawing tablet waiting for him. It wasn’t even 6am, he was well rested, the perfect time to get on with his story. Another two or three weeks, and he’d be done… well, with the first part, at least. Refusing to think about what would come after that, he sat down to detail out the next page's layout.  
His laptop informed him that 134 emails were waiting for him. Sighing, he opened his mail account. If he didn’t get it out of the way now, it would distract him, sitting in the back of his mind, the little red alert sign blinking at him accusingly. 131 emails were just junk. It felt satisfying condemning them to land in the electronic trashcan. One came from his bank. Great, they’d raised the charges again. One was a reminder from Ellen, the bookstore's owner, that they would be hosting a children's´ reading event the coming weekend, and damnit, he'd forgotten all about it, she clearly knew him well by now. He set a double alert on his phone for it, to be on the safe side. God bless technology.  
The last email came from one jared.padalecki@pioneer-energy.com.  
Jensen stared at it for a good three minutes. Why would Padalecki send him an email? Where did he get Jensen´s email address from? Why the heck did he feel like thirteen again, finding a little well-folded note in one of his textbooks? Hands shaking a little, he pressed the key to open the email.

Dear Jensen,  
I hope you got home from Texas without any trouble, and I sincerely hope your sister and family are well. I’m on my way to China right now and won’t be back in the States for another three weeks, therefore I decided to write to you what I had hoped I would be able to tell you in person.  
Forgive me if I pressed your friend Chris to give me your email address. Ever since our encounter at the Fuller, Heyerdah l& Lehne event, I have felt the need to explain myself, or rather events in the past that might have been brought to your attention. While I usually prefer to handle personal matters like this one face to face, I do not want to waste anymore time now. Meeting you in Texas again, together with your talented and kind friends, has only encouraged my decision.  
I know you’ve met Tom Welling in your hometown, as I had the doubtful pleasure of meeting him there, too. As he’s told you, we grew up together. He is the only son of my father’s late first hand at the ranch, a loyal and capable man my family valued highly. Tom and I were friends when we were little, as we passed a lot of time together during summer holidays.   
My father promised to take care of Tom's education, and as he'd always liked Tom's daring, flirtatious character, he was ready to excuse his lack of success for a long time, believing his tales about a challenging, yet promising sports career. I had already left for a different college back then, and didn’t know what was going on. We hadn't been in contact for years. The fact is, even my father's, usually much more limited, patience wore thin, and he had someone check on Tom. Well, it turned out Welling hadn’t used his time building an athletic career, something he could have done, as he’d always been extremely athletic and competitive, but had developed an expensive gambling habit.   
My father refused to pay any more tuition, of course. Tom vanished for a while; I suspect that he had collected some debt through his gambling. When my father died, I took his place in the company, and while I tried to be home as much as possible, I barely found the time, especially during the first two years.  
My little sister, Megan, whom you've met in Texas, was only fourteen at the time; she went to boarding school and was barely ever home - aside from a couple weeks during summer holidays. Tom had the nerve to show up at the ranch back then, looking for work. Megan had always had a crush on him, since we were little kids, Tom, meeting her again, saw his chance to get his hands on my father's money after all. He pretended to be deeply in love with her, but told her to keep their relationship a secret, as I was jealous and wouldn’t allow them to be together.   
Long story short, he coaxed information out of her, trying to get access to her money. She even let him use her personal, limited, account, to help him finance a so-called ‘one-in- a-million’ business chance. When the bank manager alerted me that the account had been cleared out, I flew down to talk to her. She told me everything, how Tom was the love of her life, and she intended to marry him as soon as it was legally possible. She'd taken the money to give him the chance to make his own life.  
The day I came back to the ranch, though, Tom was once more gone, vanished without a word, not even leaving her a note. He sure did take the money with him, though.  
Megan was devastated. She really did love Welling, had trusted him. Now she had to find out he’d only ever been crazy about her fortune, and had seen her as easy prey, counting on his charm and her childhood crush on him. He stole that trust, that innocence, from her, and I´ll never forgive him for that.   
Megan was unstable for a long time after that, she struggled with anorexia, even self-harming tendencies. Music was what ultimately saved her, I think. You’ve seen what a strong, talented young woman she is now. For a while, I really lived in fear of losing her and that’s something I would never have forgiven myself.  
I hope that now you can see where my hostile behavior towards Tom Welling comes from. I know he’s working for an insurance company now, one that sells highly risky products to desperate people or companies. They’ve been on the radar of several federal investigators for a while now. I don’t think it´s a coincidence he tested the waters in your hometown.  
This has become a rather long, one could say, old-fashioned letter. Forgive me for stealing your time. I know you haven’t got the best opinion of my character, and you’re right to be angry, after the pain I've caused your sister. Believe me, if I could, I would turn back time and undo my mistake.   
It may look foolish, maybe even desperate, wanting to explain myself like this to you. My father certainly would have found derisive words for such behavior and maybe he was right to encourage the decisive, ruthless parts in me. I wouldn’t have been able to play my role in our company otherwise, or survive in the business world for even a day.  
But for some reason, I want you to know the sides of me that I have kept hidden from the public eye for a long time. My sister is one of the people who usually point out to me, in no uncertain terms, when I’m in danger of losing this part of me. I guess little sisters are good like that.  
Forgive me, again, for laying all of this on you like that. Maybe it´s only vanity, wanting to appear in a better light in front of you. I am aware now that it might be evidence for the conceit and arrogance you accused me of, just assuming you’d even want to read my words.  
I can only hope that you’re a more forgiving, better man than I’ve been for a long time.

Good bye,  
Jared

 

Jensen read the email three times. Then he just sat there, staring at the laptop's screen, words melting together into a blurry mass. He didn’t move. His mind was one big, messed up, chaotic, tangle of thoughts, memories, pictures, things said and done: he didn’t seem able to grasp one of them for real, form a coherent thought. Every attempt to do so was crashed by the simple good bye at the end of the letter. It might look innocent enough, but to Jensen, it seemed ominous, final. He didn’t even want to think about why the greeting threw him the way it did.  
So he sat and stared, while the rays of the early morning sun slowly wandered closer, finally touching his face, making him blink. It broke the spell.   
He got up to take a shower. Maybe it would clear his head. Looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, he saw that barely half an hour had passed; it had seemed so much longer to him, like hours, a whole day. And when had he become such a teenage girl, dammit! Maybe he had contaminated Padalecki, and now the poor guy couldn’t help himself and was pouring out poetic letters like some 19th century lad in a stiff collar and necktie and a damn stick up his ass. That’s what Chris would have said, probably. Jensen knew he sometimes needed his friend's sarcasm and no-nonsense attitude, especially when he got lost I his own tangled thoughts and emotions.  
Rubbing his hair dry while trying to get his legs into a pair of sweatpants, he almost stumbled and fell when he heard the doorbell ring. And ring. And ring again.  
Jeez, who the heck was at their door at – 6:.40am? On a Tuesday morning? Ringing the bell like a maniac?  
He stumbled down the stairs, pulling a t-shirt over his head while doing so, and stopped in front of the door. He could hear his father’s grumpy complaints from his parents´ bedroom. The man had never been a morning person.  
The ringing had stopped for a moment, but started again before Jensen even had the chance to get his hand on the doorknob. He grabbed it, finally throwing the door open.  
“Jesus, what the hell is wrong with - oh. It´s…you.”  
He stared at the wide blue eyes, messy dark hair and over all crumpled looking appearance of Misha Collins, who still had his finger poised over their doorbell, giving the impression of a deer caught in the headlights. Jensen was so perplexed, he couldn’t even appreciate the fact how absolutely ridiculous the whole situation must look. Chris would have been helpful with that. Ignoring the whole cheesy romcom setup, he overcame his surprise and found his voice.  
“Uh - Misha? What are you doing here?” Oh, great, there was his famous eloquence again.   
Collins had lowered his hand, and was now nervously picking at his sleeves. He looked endearingly shy all of a sudden.  
“I, uh - is Mack at home? Can I - would you let me talk to her? If she even wants to, I mean. I know I- “  
“Jensen, who the hell is waking up the whole house at the ass-crack of - oh. It´s you!”  
His father’s voice held enough scorn to give Jensen goosebumps. Alan rarely got emotional in front of others, but when he did, it could get ugly, fast. He almost felt bad for Collins.  
“You've got some nerve, showing up here, I gotta give you that.”   
While Jensen was still holding the door, Alan had stepped forward, arms crossed, completely blocking the entrance. If it hadn’t been for his pajamas and the bed-hair, he'd looked like the steadfast sheriff in an old Western movie.   
Collins squirmed under his stare, but didn’t pull back. Jensen saw him swallow, his Adams apple moving frantically. He seemed to have gotten his determination back, though, as he was straightening up, blue eyes pleading.  
“Mr. Ackles… I know you probably hate me for what I’ve -”  
“Alan? What’s going on? Why are you all crammed up in the doorway like - OH. YOU!”  
Jensen´s mom had found her way to the door, wrapping her bathrobe around herself, and had managed to peek in between her husband’s and son's broad shoulders. The moment she recognized Collins outside her doorstep, Jensen practically felt the energy explode around him. Now he definitely felt sorry for Collins.  
“You! How dare you show up here on our doorstep, after what you’ve put Mackenzie through! After how you’ve treated our girl! How dare you even show your face, you selfish, arrogant piece of work!”  
Jensen stared down into his mother's angry face. Wow. He hadn’t heard her put someone down like that in - well, never, actually. She usually was very careful with her language, and was adamant about her children's use of it, too. Alan seemed equally surprised, glancing at his wife with raised eyebrows. He focused back on the issue at hand, Misha Collins standing in front of them.   
The combined stares of three Ackles family members, some of them outraged, seemed to make Misha’s determination waver for a second; but once again, he pulled himself together, even taking a tiny step forward.   
Jensen had to give him that - the man wasn’t a coward.  
“Mrs. Ackles, I know you can’t feel anything but contempt for me right now. But please, please, let me explain myself.” His eyes searched theirs, pleading.. “If you don't want me to see Mack, or talk to her, I - I understand. But please, Jared only told me she’d been at the hospital, and something about weird accusations, and I - please, is - is she alright? He wouldn’t tell me anything more before he left for China, and… I couldn’t…” his eyes flitted from Donna's, to Alan's, to Jensen´s, obviously desperate to get through to them.   
Well, it worked, on Jensen, at least. How could anyone resist those puppy eyes? Collins clearly cared for Mack, if he’d come all the way to their doorstep just to make sure she was okay. Right?   
Jensen could feel his father’s shoulders slightly relax.  
Donna was a tougher nut to crack.   
“I don't see how our daughter's wellbeing would be of any concern to you, Mr. Collins,” his dad said sternly, but Jensen could tell by his voice that he was ready to give the young man a chance.  
Donna huffed. “I can inform you that Mackenzie is at home, and well enough, although I am not sure how you’d deserve the courtesy of knowing. It´s certainly not thanks to you! Don’t expect to be allowed to see her, or talk to her, as I´ll make sure you won’t get the chance to worm your way into her life again!”  
Jensen watched Collin's face fall, right when a voice at their backs made them all turn around.  
“No offense, but I think the only one to make that call is me, Mom.”  
“Mackenzie, you cannot possibly want to talk to this - this -” at a loss of words, or not willing to use the one she had on her tongue, Donna waved in the general direction of the young man still standing in front of their house.  
“Maybe I just want to give him my opinion on his behavior, Mom. I think I’ve earned the right to do that!”  
Jensen got a glimpse of Collins desperately trying to get a look inside, when he felt his father’s hand on his arm.   
“She's right. Come on, let’s give them some privacy.” Alan pulled both Jensen and a pretty reluctant Donna into the kitchen. When Jensen looked down at his sister in passing, he was surprised to see the emotions battling on her face: joy, anger, hurt, and love, all directed at the young man who was now tentatively entering the house. He managed to watch Collins actually fall on his knees (Wow, talk about big gestures…) in front of Mackenzie, before Alan resolutely closed the door on them.  
“I could use some coffee,” he murmured, tiredly rubbing his eyes.  
“Alan, you cannot possibly let her fall for him another time!” Donna cried. “We've seen where it´s taken her!”  
Alan shook his head. “I know, I know! But first of all, she’s right - it´s her call to make. Second, maybe she really wants to give him a piece of her mind, and I think she definitely needs to do that, for her own sake. And third - I don’t know. Maybe they deserve another chance? You’ve seen how happy she was while this Collins guy was around!”  
“I did! They were perfect together, he was perfect! But then he just left, vanished into thin air, leaving her behind like some toy he wasn’t interested in anymore! And I saw what that did to her, and so did you!”  
Alan sighed, rubbing his eyes again. Jensen had taken on the task of making coffee, as his father had abandoned it, sitting down on one of the stools at the kitchen counter wearily.  
“You're right, dear. But still… he seemed generously worried for her, didn’t he? And did you see Mack's face?” He nodded his thanks when Jensen put a cup of steaming black coffee in front of him. “I think we should give them a chance.”  
Donna took her coffee from Jensen´s hands, smiling at him (milk foam, two spoons full of sugar, chocolate sprinkles - he knew when some liquid goodness was needed to appease her).  
She took a sip, closing her eyes; Jensen could see the effect on her face and posture immediately. Well, at least he knew where he’d gotten his addiction from: between his father and mother, he wasn’t even sure who was the bigger coffee addict.  
Opening her eyes again, Donna faced her husband, her expression resolute.  
“Okay. Maybe you’re right. We'll give them their chance, if not to a new start, then at least to talk things out. Mack's therapist told her she’d have to talk about it, anyway. But the minute, the second, Collins looks like he’ll hurt her again -”   
“He won't. I´ll make sure of that!” Alan looked downright scary.  
Jensen watched his parents, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. It was good to know they had their backs like that. There had been times when he found the overbearing care and worry his mother showed them annoying, times when he’d wished for his father to be less anal about certain rules. But he’d learned that it was how they showed their never ending love for their children, no matter how old they got.  
They all buried their noses into their mugs for a few silent minutes, listening for clues from outside, or just contemplating the past events, or, in Jensen´s case, living a moment of embarrassingly emotional gratefulness for his family.  
When the door opened and Mack rolled into the kitchen, they all looked up, right into her glowing face. Jensen was struck by the change from the night before: she looked so alive, healthy, and happy, he couldn’t help but smile at her widely.  
“Mack!”, he said, automatically reaching for her favorite mug, filling it and handing it over to her. “How'd it go?”  
Her smile was radiant. Jensen could see the frown ease off his father’s face; his mother’s eyes were still worried, but she seemed a little less concerned, seeing her daughter so obviously happy.  
“We talked,” she simply stated. “ He explained. He apologized. And I believe him.”  
“Are you sure?” Donna had put her mug down, kneeling down at her daughter's side. “Sweetie, I cannot see you hurt like that another time. You don’t deserve that!”  
Mack bit her lip, looking down at her lap for a moment. “I know, Mom. And I’m sure.” She sounded so confident, so calm, that Jensen believed her, instantly.  
“The thing is - is he, this time? Or will he be running again, the next time something comes up?”  
Mack's smile was small, but there. “Dad, he really is sorry for how he acted. He said he’d never let others dictate to him against his own feelings, and better knowledge, again. I think - I think he’s changed. He seems - I dunno, more adult? More confident?”  
“Where is he, by the way?” Donna asked. “Was he too afraid to face us to say good bye?”  
Mack grinned. “Can you blame him? After the show y´all gave him before?”  
Jensen chuckled. “Just doing our job, little sister. Scaring away untoward suitors and such, you know?”  
She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, tell yourself that. And since when do you use words like `untoward suitors´!”  
Jensen felt a slight warmth on his cheeks. He’d probably been thinking too much about romantic 19th century heroes lately. It seemed to affect his language.  
“Don't blame me,” he grumbled. “The guy was on his knees, Mack. On his freaking knees!”  
“I know,” she said, looking a little smug.   
“And that’s exactly where he should be, after the stunt he pulled,” Donna added. “He can do some serious groveling as far as I’m concerned!”  
The two women shared a look that sure didn’t promise an easy get-away for Mr. Collins.  
Jensen glanced at his father. They, too, shared a look, one full of pity for the guy.  
“I actually asked him to leave,” Mack said. “He'll call tonight and ask for a proper meeting, though. He said he wants to make it right, this time.”  
Alan's eyebrows raised. Donna looked surprised for a moment, then definitely smug.  
“As he should,” was all she said, before getting up, holding out her mug to Jensen. “Can I have a refill, please, dear? Your coffee always makes me feel better…”

 

For Jensen, the following weeks were a strange mixture of happiness and melancholy. Collins, who had become `Misha´ again, stuck around, spending a lot of time at the company, and seriously courting Mackenzie when her schedule allowed it. Hearing his sister's laugh again, seeing the radiant smile he'd missed for weeks, months, even, took a weight off his shoulders, one he'd not even felt consciously, but now that it was gone, he could tell how it had been affecting him. The same seemed to go for his parents, if Donna's increased humming and singing and his father’s renewed energy in fixing things around the house, garden or garage were anything to go by.   
On the other hand, seeing Mack and Misha so undoubtedly in love with each other made him long for the kind of relationship the two of them seemed to be building, something deeper and more committed than they’d shared before. For the content happiness it put on his sister's face. It was the same quiet joy he'd found in Josh's eyes, when his brother had come down to check on them all after Mack's incident, and had showed them pictures of his wife Jill and her noticeable baby bump.  
Jensen hadn't been in a real, lasting relationship so far. Sure, there were high-school crushes and hook-ups in college, even one try on `something steady´ with a guy called Michael. It turned out Michael saw the `steady´ thing as a one-way road, or rather, as something one could do with several partners at the same time. Jensen got burned, and became cautious, maybe too much so, plus, there was the fact that it wasn’t exactly raining young, gay, available men from the sky. He was working all the time, didn’t want to spend money on club nights and didn’t even have the kind of cash he'd need for a holiday in Black's Beach, CA.   
It hadn’t bothered him much, so far, but now, with Danneel gone, his friends working and touring a lot, and Mack's more than budding relationship right in front of his nose, he couldn’t help but feel lonely, at times. If he allowed himself to indulge in fits of self-pity from time to time, he sure wasn’t going to tell anyone about it. He went to work, trying to make peoples´ lives better one perfect coffee or riveting book at a time; and if his exhausted thoughts tended to wander to a pair of foxy eyes, framed by longish chestnut hair, just before falling asleep at night, he'd not share that with the class, either. Nor the fact that his dreams seemed increasingly filled with long-legged, broad-shouldered ( and very shirtless) men who easily manhandled him with their big hands, his own fingers buried in their mane of hair, while - well, nope. He wasn’t even going to contemplate the fact that it was, actually, just one certain man, even if his features seemed blurry and twisted in his dreams. Jensen´s dream-self knew who it was dealing with, and seemed pretty enthusiastic about it, too.   
And if there had been one specific dream where Jensen was wearing his old `Robin, the Boy Wonder´-costume, chasing some anonymous evil with a Batman without mask (and longish hair attractively swaying around his head) - he would take that little detail to his grave.

 

Their routine, though, was short-lived again. Because one night, when everyone was just getting ready for bed, and Jensen had settled in front of his drawing desk to take his mind off things and get another page done, their doorbell rang. Quite alarmingly so. Jensen couldn’t tell why it sounded, somehow, impatient and arrogant, but it did.  
So maybe he wasn’t as surprised as was probably to be expected when he banged down the stairs, only to find his dad, wearing his pajamas again, in the doorway, in front of a pristinely clothed Kurt Fuller. If Fuller's peeved face was anything to go by, Alan's first reaction to the late house call hadn’t been the most welcoming one.  
“Ah, there he is. Jensen, I need a word with you, now.”  
Jensen sent his father a look that hopefully conveyed his own cluelessness, and walked forward.  
“Mr. Fuller? What - what is this about?”  
“Yes, Kurt, I was actually going to ask you the same thing. What are you doing here at -” Alan squinted at his watch, “11pm?” Fuller opened his mouth to answer, but as Donna chose the moment to join them, he didn't get a chance. Fuzzing around with her night robe's belt,  
Jensen´s mother didn’t immediately see who was at the door.  
“Alan, who in God´s name is impolite enough to ring at our door at such an ungodly hour! If it´s your brother, Richard, again, I swear…” She'd come to a halt in front of the door, finally. Her eyes went wide. “Mr. Fuller?”  
She looked so perplexed Jensen had to bite his tongue not to laugh, despite his own apprehension about the late call.  
“Mrs. Ackles - Alan. May I speak to Jensen for a minute, in private. It´s urgent.”  
The glances his parents threw him at that made Jensen squirm, even if he didn’t have the slightest clue what was going on. Donna's eyes had a certain `what did you do now!´ - look in them, one he remembered well from his childhood.   
Alan raised his eyebrows in a silent question, asking if he was okay. Jensen gave him a tiny nod and turned to face Fuller.  
“We can use the living room. Please, come in.”  
Walking past his bewildered parents, he spotted Mack’s head peeking out of her room's door.  
Whatever Fuller was here to talk about, he sure had gotten the whole family’s attention.  
Jensen closed the door behind them, leaning against it, curiously watching the older man taking a few agitated strides into the room. Fuller came to an abrupt halt, giving the whole room a once-over with a condescending pull of his lips and arrogantly raised eyebrows, which immediately made Jensen want to slap the man. He cleared his throat instead.  
“Mr. Fuller, I´d appreciate it if you -”  
The man came towards Jensen with two long strides. Poking his finger into Jensen´s face, he snarled, “It was you, wasn’t it? You put your little red-headed friend up to her scheme, and then you allured Padalecki into drawing back to ruin things further for me. You ungrateful little shit, after everything I’ve done for you and your father! After offering you a job, looking over the fact that you’ve got no experience, no reputation, not even a family worth anything! But I know how these things go, don’t I!” He leered at Jensen, getting right into his personal space. “I guess you weren’t such a prude when it came to Padalecki, were you? Offering your pretty mouth to him, and probably more, right? And sending your friend on a mission to take out the competition, make it look like `just another business decision´.” He huffed his hot breath right into Jensen´s face. “Business, right… guess we all know what kind of `business´ is at the bottom of it!”   
With his last words, he’d started to painfully poke his finger into Jensen´s chest.  
Jensen had stared at the man, at a total loss. When Fuller began spitting his accusations at him, though, his eyes narrowed. What the hell was the man talking about?  
Fuller spared him the pain of finding an answer (or question) by going on with his rant.  
There was the finger again. Jensen started to get pissed, if only for the painful stabs.  
“So, Jensen -” his name sounded like an offense, the way Fuller spat it through gritted teeth, “are you man enough to admit it?”  
“Admit what! I’ve no idea what you’re talking about!” Jensen was losing his patience now, fast.  
Fuller's venomous sneer made him press against the door in an attempt to escape him.   
“Of course… innocent little Jensen with his big green eyes and his shabby little family in their decrepit American Dream home.” Fuller took a step back, staring Jensen down like a principal at school facing a naughty little school boy. “So you deny that you have anything to do with Ms. Harri’s accusations against me, her whole despicable plot, I might say?”   
“Danni? What - how would I - what plot? Why would I…” Jensen got the distinct feeling of being part of a school play without the script.  
Fullers eyes narrowed. “Cut the crap, Jensen. I don’t buy your innocent act for one second. I should have known that it was a mistake lowering my standards to help out a former colleague. I guess that’s where compassion and charity gets you.” He glowered at a speechless Jensen for a moment, then pulled up to his full height, straightening his shoulders.  
Did you or did you not know about the scheme Ms. Harris was building against me and my firm?”  
Jensen shook his head. “I didn’t! I still don’t know what this is all about!”  
Fuller just continued, undeterred. “Did you or did you not lure Mr. Padalecki into offering your friend a job, exploiting her knowledge about our firm? Cutting all strings with our firm and taking his business to a no-name business here? Right in your shitty little home town?”  
“What? No! I haven’t even heard about -”   
“Did you or did you not trick Padalecki into taking over a considerable share of Collins & Sheppard, deciding to keep the business running, again, in your shitty little hometown, against our advice, and also very much against his obligations towards us, and the business deal we had almost finalized with him? Facing, I can inform you, the full force of our legal department!?”  
“What?” “Yes or no!” He was downright shouting now.  
“No! I – I’ve never even… I didn’t know any of that until you just told me!”  
Fuller squinted at him, the suspicion in his eyes fighting the contempt on his face.  
Jensen felt his head spinning. Jared… Padalecki was saving Collins & Sheppard? Had he heard that right? And Danni - Danni would come back and work for him? Fuller and his despicable firm were out of the game? And - and Padalecki hadn’t told him any of it? Not down in Texas, not in his elaborate email? And Danneel? Why hadn’t she told him anything? Not a single word, a hint? He felt oddly betrayed. It stung.  
His confusion must have shown on his face, because Fuller stepped back again, showing nothing but condescending disdain.  
“Very well. I should have known that a nobody like you could possibly have anything to do with machinations that intricate.”  
Somehow, that last sentence was the final jibe that ripped Jensen out of his stupor.  
He straightened up, lifting his chin to stare Fuller down with all the anger he could muster in his current confused state. For once, words didn’t leave him; he was too angry, and hurt, to care anymore.  
“Mr. Fuller, you’ve insulted me and my family in every possible way now. I can, however, assure you that neither me, nor my family had or have anything to do with the accusations you’ve thrown our way. I have nothing more to say to you. Please, leave our house now.” Jensen groped for the doorknob at his back, stepping aside and opening the door in one move. “Don't come back, Mr. Fuller.”  
They stared at each other for three, four, five seconds. Then Fuller huffed out a derisive laugh, and strode through the door, barely nodding at Alan and Donna, who were huddled against the wall next to Mack's open door, incredulous looks on their faces.   
When the door banged closed behind Fuller's angry figure, they all turned to Jensen like one. All of them started speaking at once.  
“Jensen?”  
“Darling, what in God´s name was all that about?”  
“What the heck just happened in there, Jen?”  
He glanced into his family’s bewildered faces; and suddenly, it was all too much.  
“I have no idea.”  
“But, Jensen, what did Fuller even want? He must have told you -”  
“ I said, I’ve got no idea! He threw some stupid accusations at me, asked a few stupid questions, and that’s it!” Jensen made for the stairwell, suddenly feeling the urgent need of being alone.  
“But what was-”  
“I don’t know, and I don’t care! It was stupid, okay? A stupid misunderstanding! Now would y´all just leave me alone! Just for once!” He stormed up the stairs and straight into his room, banging the door shut behind him. He felt bad for it immediately, even more so for leaving his family down there without an explanation. He was behaving like a brat, and he knew it. But right then, he didn’t feel capable of scraping together the energy to tell them what was going on; especially as he himself wasn’t sure about that.  
He fell on his bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the murmuring voices from downstairs, and finally the usual noises of his parents in the bathroom before going to bed.  
Sleep didn’t come for a long time.


	15. Revelations

He would not call Danneel. No way.   
After a day, he finally understood what people meant when they said something was burning on their minds. His phone didn’t only `burn´ while he was turning it around and around in his fingers, he could also feel it when it was shoved down in his pocket, when it was lying on his nightstand, even when it was tucked away in his jacket at work.  
He was glad he had work to distract him. With the additional advantage that it was helping him avoid his family. He'd probably never been that over-punctual, in fact, arriving fifteen minutes early, at his early morning shifts at the cafe, or taken on extra hours in the bookstore in the evenings without any complaints. All just to get away from his family’s bewildered/curious/annoyed/increasingly worried looks.  
It was ridiculous. He was being ridiculous, he knew it, and yet he just didn’t feel like he could do anything about it. Was he trying to postpone the inevitable, like, having to tell his parents and sister what Mr. Fuller's visit had been about, or calling Danneel to finally get answers, and call her out on her secrecy? Or like using the email address of one Mr. Jared Padalecki, write him back?  
Well, yes. Of course he did. Duh.  
But what would he say? How would he say it? “Thank you for your email, it was eye-opening, now could you please enlighten me on the whole Collins & Sheppard/Danneel/Fuller, Heyerdahl & Lehne mess? Especially about the fact that Mr. Fuller seems to think I am at the root of it all. Thank you and have a pleasant remaining stay in China, yours sincerely, Jensen Ackles”?  
Nope.   
So he might face the bitter truth that neither Danneel nor Padalecki had deemed it important to inform him of their `intricate machinations´, as Fuller had put it so eloquently, and he did not dwell on the fact why he would even expect Jared-Mr. Padalecki- to include him in any of his decisions, no, he definitely didn’t. He might be less inclined to act on it. Therefore, he chose the, `head in the sand,´ tactic, went to work, endured the accusing stares at home and his employer’s slightly mystified looks at his new over-eager work ethics, and let the whole thing settle deep in his stomach, or wherever suppressed emotions went. They could fester down there as much as they liked. He’d still not call Danneel.   
After four days of this course of action, and okay, maybe he was silently calling it his chicken heart-way, one more thing to add to his `epic fails´ list that seemed to be growing the longer he had time to think about it, he felt exhausted. Who’d have expected suppressing your emotions would be so energy consuming!  
In all his busying himself with work and avoiding his family, he didn’t once think of the fact that he could have just asked Misha Collins. He barely saw Mack or Misha due to his and their schedules and if the man seemed even happier and more exuberant than ever before, he was practically floating above ground,, every short glimpse that Jensen got of him, he wrote it down to the newly found lovey-dovey happily-ever-after, match-made-from-heaven- thing Mack and Misha had going on now.  
In short, Jensen was pouting, internally, of course, and had more than one pity-fest when he finally fell into bed at night and got a minute to think, and still couldn’t decide if he was more angry or hurt about the whole mess. It didn’t really help that he was well aware he had it in his own hands to end the suffering. Okay, so he was acting like an offended, irrational teenage girl right out of one of those horrendous TV shows. If anyone felt like complaining, they could join the club!  
At least he hadn’t sunk so low as to start transforming his angst into words in a pink, glittery diary.   
Yet.   
He had his graphic novel for that.

 

Six days can be a long time, Jensen found.  
They can also fly by, of course. But as much as he’d have wished them to do so, they seemed to drag on and on and on, no matter how much he busied himself filling them with activities from dusk ´til dawn to make the hours pass faster.  
And then Sunday came, one of his rare free ones. He’d asked his co-workers to change shifts with him, had begged, really, but the bookstore was closed and his colleagues at Rick's couldn’t, or wouldn’t, help him out. He'd offered to clean out the garage, get rid of stuff that had somehow found its way into the cramped room, taking away precious space; but his parents had plans for the afternoon, some invitation or whatever, and Alan obviously didn’t trust Jensen with the decision of what to keep and what to throw out. There had been an incident involving an original Chevrolet service manual, about 15 years ago. His Dad had made him go through ALL of the boxes tagged `trash´, waiting in their driveway to be thrown away, until he'd found the torn, dirty thing hours later. Jensen had accepted the fact that he’d never hear the end of it for the rest of his life.  
Mack was at a friend’s place, having some big project to finish, and would meet with Misha later in the afternoon. Which left Jensen home alone, at his desk, drawing. It didn’t give his mind the distraction he’d hoped for, though, so after an hour, he started cleaning his room, then re-organizing his shelves and walk-in cupboard. When there was nothing more to occupy him with, he sat back down in front of his laptop to get some more rendering done on the latest page. His phone, ever-accusingly lying in between sheets and pencils, pinged. He glanced over, a message from Danneel.  
They’d messaged, of course, almost daily. Just like always. It would have been highly suspicious to stop communicating, wouldn't it? Jensen had decided to act as if nothing had changed, they’d exchanged the usual banter, complaints, funny gifs, and everyday stories.  
`hey jenny-bean u home?´  
Jensen hated that nickname, and she knew it; that’s why she used it with irritating regularity.  
He pondered not answering at all, then gave in. He had been looking for a distraction, after all.   
`yeah´  
`u sound lonely. need help?´  
Jensen chuckled. How on earth could a simple `yeah´ sound lonely!  
`home alone´, he typed, with a gif of Macaulay Caulkin doing his scream thing.  
`no burglars tho I hope. Or ax murderers. Masked men with motor saws?´  
`not yet…´   
Jensen couldn’t help it. Now he had to listen for any signs of forced entry into his home. Of course, it was eerily quiet; only the occasional creaking or moaning sound of the old wooden structure interrupted the silence.  
That was, until the doorbell rang. Jensen jerked. Who’d be calling on a Sunday afternoon? Reassuring himself that masked murderers wielding chainsaws didn't usually politely ask to be invited into their victims´ houses, he thumped down the stairs. Only when he was already opening the door wide, did he remember the whole Fuller-incident. Damnit, he never learned!  
“Surprise!”  
His face must have been hilarious to look at, because after holding her `ta da!´ pose for three seconds, Danneel bent over, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.  
“Oh my God, your face! This is- this - it´s - that’s the best -” She was unable to finish her sentence, gulping for air in between short fits of giggling.   
Jensen was usually not one to deny his friends merry fits of laughter at his expense. They all had a constant banter and well-meant ribbing going on, and everyone took their share in dishing out and taking it, but he’d been wondering about the truth behind Fuller's words for almost a week, had been freaking out about his friend's silence on the matter, and had allowed his frustration to fester and grow.  
“Danni! What the hell are you doing here!” Okay, that had come out probably a lot harsher than he'd meant it to be.  
It sobered her up fast. “Jeez, Jen, don’t hold back your grumpy self, would you! One could think that I have interrupted something mind-blowing happening upstairs instead of saving you from an afternoon of boredom!” She eyed him critically.   
Jensen knew he looked like crap. He hadn’t even bothered donning more than his sweatpants and one of his oldest, most shapeless t-shirts. The long working hours and sleepless nights showed in the bags under his eyes and his hair was in desperate need of a haircut, but he hadn’t wanted to give his mom the chance for a talk, so he’d postponed it.  
“Jesus, Jensen, you look god-awful. There I go, leaving you to fend for yourself for a few months, and this is what you turn into?” She resolutely made her way past him into the house.   
Jensen felt the childish need to act up. “So? What’s it to you!” It was stupid, and he felt himself blushing, but hey. Festering frustration!  
All it got him, though, was one of Danneel's piercing looks. She put down her huge purse, straightened up and stepped closer, her eyebrows pulled together in a frown.  
”Hey, what’s up with you? Is everything alright? Mack is okay, isn’t she?”  
He huffed, still not letting go of his defiant kinder garden-self for now. “Mack's fine. More than fine. She and Misha are so much in love it will probably make the whole town sparkle with purple glitter soon.”  
Danneel smiled. “God, I have to see that. Young love!” She sighed dramatically, before turning back to him. “So? What’s wrong, then? I have to say, I had expected a little more enthusiasm about my surprise visit.”  
Jensen had been angry, not entirely sure about what, but the feeling was there. Now, looking at her slightly disappointed face, and her attempt to mask her hurt behind a joke, the anger seemed to give way to something else… relief. Finally, this frustrating week of angsting, wondering, stubbornly refusing to talk, was over. His best friend was here, also one of the people who could help him with his questions.  
He sighed, rubbed his hand down his face in a tired gesture, and started with, “Fuller paid us a visit last Monday.”

 

In hindsight, Jensen should have known that he’d only hurt himself by bottling everything up.  
Once his rant about Fuller's accusations, secretive friends, maddening oil princes and the cost of a vacation in Black's Beach, the last had snuck into it, somehow, was over, Danneel did what she’d always done best: she sighed deeply, comforted him with a hug, apologized for the secrecy and his suffering (…although you could have just taken up your damn phone, Jen), and went about setting him straight.  
Turned out Fuller's babbling about career threatening plots, acquired company shares and broken contracts had been true, after all. The only thing he hadn’t gotten right, in fact, was Jensen´s role in it all.  
Danneels ‘machinations’ consisted of talking to as many employees of Fuller, Heyerdahl & Lehne as possible, befriending many of the `lower ranks´ like herself, finding out that Jensen wasn’t the only one weirded out by Fuller's behavior. When she’d gotten a few of her newly found friends to admit to having been, or still being, harassed by the man, she was appalled; but none of them dared to come forward. So she set up a trap: herself. She'd made herself indispensable pretty fast, got Fuller to trust her with important tasks, spending more time with him from month to month. It was only a matter of time until he got handsy, and at her rejection, threatened her with, “Consequences! your career won’t survive, Danneel…be smart!” Of course, she’d recorded the whole thing, and Fuller found himself in the role of the hunted instead of the hunter. Other victims threatened to come out with their stories, encouraged by Danneel's example. Things didn’t look good for Mr. Fuller and his companions, who also had a few skeletons hidden in their closets as well.  
Padalecki industries buying into Collins & Sheppard was something Danneel had known about as well, but only because Padalecki had offered her a job, as soon as he’d been informed of the situation at Fuller, Heyerdahl & Lehne. He intended to invest a great deal into the company, and had looked for, and found, a small, but ambitious, legal firm right in town to keep the proceedings smooth and flawless. Padalecki canceled all contracts with F, H & L for ethical reasons, and brought all his considerable business to a young firm with much higher standards in ethics, environmental awareness and equality.  
“You know, I happened to mention that firm to him, at the charity event we went to… what a coincidence, don’t you think!”  
When Danneel had finished, gulping down half a bottle of beer to wet her dried out throat, they sat in silence for a while. Jensen was contemplating her words, especially her view on Jared Padalecki, who she'd had the pleasure of meeting with for an extended lunch before he'd left for China.  
“He's not at all what you made him out to be, Jensen. I know, I know, we both agreed that he’s an arrogant asshole, but Jen - we didn’t do him justice. He might be a little stuck-up sometimes, and yes, the arrogance is there…but that’s not who he really is. I’ve seen how he’s fought against it, lately. I think… I got the impression he’s always wanted to prove himself, to his family, his company, the board, his father’s legacy, I don’t know! All of the above, probably. Underneath the cold businessman he’s been showing the world…he's a considerate guy, Jensen. He cares. About a lot of things, and a lot of people. Including you, by the way.”  
“What? Why would he - he doesn't even know me!”  
Her smile was smug, amused, and knowing at the same time. “I don’t know, Jen…he sure as hell asked a lot about you. And he was blushing each and every time. Just saying.”  
Jensen thought about the email he'd gotten. About their encounter at the festival. He buried his head in his hands.  
“Damn, Danni… I've totally misjudged the man. And I - I threw it into his face, at the charity event, I - I was… while he did all these things, saved the company, the town, practically, got you a job here… I wouldn’t be surprised if he had something to do with Misha´s return here, either…”  
Danneel perked up at that. “Oh, definitely. At our lunch, he talked about putting a few things right for your family. Rectify his mistakes. I thought you knew.”  
Jensen groaned. “I didn't…”  
Danneel patted his shoulder. “One more thing to add to your list!”  
She gathered her things, then, and got up to leave. “The good thing is, he’ll be back from China at the end of the week, and he’ll come right here. Things will be announced officially, then. Jared Padalecki, the town’s hero - who’d have thunk!” Her lips ghosted over Jensen´s cheek before she whispered into his ear, “Don't be stupid, Jen. You’ve made mistakes, and so has he. Don’t let your pride get in the way when things finally go your way, ok?”  
Jensen opened his mouth, but damnit - what was he supposed to answer to that?

 

Six days can fly by like nothing when an event is on the horizon - one you don’t know if you dread or look forward to. Jensen felt a little bit like before finals. On the one hand, your stomach does this crazy twisting and turning at the prospect of having to deliver all your knowledge, as limited as it may be, in the best possible way and on the other hand, you’re just so glad that it will all be over after that, only wanting it to end, it makes you impatiently looking at your calendar, ticking off the days.  
When Monday evening came his dad announced that they’d been informed the company would not be closed down, or outsourced, as they called it nowadays, but saved and made fit to survive, Jensen felt genuinely happy. So many people in town depended on the jobs that Collins & Sheppard provided for all of them. The press conference planned for Saturday would take a weight off their shoulders.   
Donna got out a bottle of sparkling wine she'd been saving since Christmas. Alan made a face at the sweetness, but was very obviously too damn relieved to be picky about it. The whole atmosphere at their dinner table was excited, bubbly, and relaxed at the same time, like Jensen hadn’t seen in months. Maybe years. It only made him think of who they had to thank for it, which, of course, stirred his conscience once again.   
Mack's mood seemed slightly dampened, too; but it was completely understandable, given that her precious Misha would be busy with the company all week, (“almost 24/7, that cannot be healthy! Mish needs his downtime!”), and she had challenging AP classes to finish (“I mean, they do know we’re not robots, right? How am I supposed to get all of this done in one freaking week? It´s inhuman!”). When his parents finally ended up slow dancing through the living room, his mum giggling like a girl at prom, he and Mack fled the scene into their respective rooms (“I gotta study!”, “I, uh, have to call Danni…”).  
The good mood held through the following days, the whole town seemed infected by it, and as the weather had decided to turn decidedly springy and nice, Jensen couldn’t help but feel like he’d fallen into some Hallmark-movie. Everything and everyone seemed brighter and more colorful, people were smiling, even his usual early morning clients at Rick's. When even Mr. Devereaux didn’t complain more than once, and rather half-heartedly, about Jensen forgetting to refill his mug (ok, so he’d been a little distracted and lost in thought the whole week), Jensen seriously started to doubt if this was still the same town he’d grown up in.  
He was glad to have picked a late shift at the bookstore on Friday; it would occupy his mind and leave him tired enough to sleep. Ellen had ordered a whole bunch of new books, and wanted them in the shelves and windows Saturday morning. In between all the unpacking, dusting book shelves, organizing and straightening books. (Ellen was a little OCD about that), Jensen also created a few banners and posters for her, printing and laminating them so she could put them wherever she saw fit.   
He felt truly exhausted, coming home to an already quiet house late that night. Mack was getting some late studying in, his parents had already retreated into their bedroom. Jensen found a plate covered with foil in the fridge, a post-it note on it JENSEN! EAT IT!, but wasn’t feeling especially hungry. He’d have it for breakfast, which would be in - well, less than five short hours, anyway.  
It was a good choice, he found out the next morning, when a constant stream of excited, jittery townspeople kept coming into the cafe, together with a few journalists who’d obviously spent the night in this cheaper part of town, leaving him not even the time for a good cup of coffee for himself. At least he got back into Mr. Devereaux´s good graces when he defended his table against a crumpled looking reporter who insisted he had a right to take one of the free chairs, until Jensen promised him a free pastry if he took another one, gently steering the man to a table as far away from Mr. Devereaux as possible.  
The press conference was scheduled for noon, which meant the cafe was almost empty by 11.45. Jensen sank down on the tiny stool hidden behind the counter for a moment, finally slurping a huge cappuccino, eyeing the last danish pastry left in their showcase.   
They had a small flat screen TV mounted on one of the walls, and while it was mostly just showing the local station with the audio turned off, today someone had decided to give them both the video and the audio experience. Jensen wondered if Richard, the boss, had snuck in at night, turning it on. The guy never showed up, in fact, Jensen himself had only seen him twice, once when he was hired during his senior year in High School, and once when he’d introduced them to their new pastry supplier, Sarah. Rick was short, talked incredibly fast and had golden-brown eyes that were as sharp as they were mischievous. Jensen could easily picture him messing with the TV just to annoy Mr. Devereaux).  
Of course, the local station was covering the press conference like it was a royal wedding. It was their rare chance to shine in a town where nothing interesting had happened since Mr. Collin's costume ball. And the media had been shut out, much to their chagrin).  
Jensen hurried to refill the mugs of the few customers who had remained - actually, it was just Mr. Devereaux and Ms. Moseley, who'd both far extended their usual hours at the café. Maybe they didn’t own a TV and wanted to watch the whole thing at the cafe, Jensen mused. He barely had the time to also bring them fresh glasses of water, and clean the last of the empty tables, when the reporter announced the start of “The most exciting press conference this town has seen since late mayor Pileggi announced his resignation after being accused of murdering his wife in 1973!”  
Jensen leant against the counter, absentmindedly wiping a water glass with a dishrag, staring at the screen showing a long desk - obviously at Collins & Sheppard’s´ conference room, which looked nice in an old-fashioned way, with huge industrial windows to the right, and an actual brick wall in the background. The camera followed the people now entering through a door to the left. A few serious looking, smartly dressed men and women Jensen didn’t know, then Misha, looking frightened and exuberant at the same time, and finally, Jared Padalecki, in a suit that brought out his slender waist and broad shoulders, soft hair waving down to his neck. He'd let it grow even more, Jensen noticed.  
Everyone was standing there first, a little awkwardly, blinded by the flashes of the cameras; then Jared put his hand on a fidgety Misha´s shoulder, steering him right to the chair in the middle of the table, sitting down next to him. The reassuring smile he sent him was different from the one he’d put on for the cameras first: it was warm, and sincere, and Jensen asked himself how he’d missed that part of the man entirely before, when it seemed so obvious now.  
He didn't actually hear much of what was being said, too busy staring at Jared, following his every move, feeling himself smile every time Jared smiled, content to listen to his pleasant voice. When the station changed to another reporter after the conference had ended, interviewing employees and townspeople gathered around the company’s main building, Jensen zoned out. He was so lost in thought that he was startled out of his mind when Mr. Devereaux suddenly stood in front of him, appearing out of nowhere, really, and said, “Are you done rubbing this poor mug to pieces, or can I finally pay my bill now?!”  
Jensen blushed and stammered his way through dealing with his client, only to find Ms. Moseley right in front of the counter once Mr. Devereaux had stepped aside. After having paid, she reached up to pat his cheek, making Jensen freeze (he hadn’t had a nice old lady pat his cheeks since he was - five, or six, after all!). Taking away her hand, she raised her eyebrows, a little smile playing around her lips.   
“You've got a little drool there, honey, right here...” she said, tipping her own chin with her finger, her eyes twinkling. Jensen stared at her retreating form, just hearing her murmured “Silly boy…” before he saw her joining Mr. Devereaux outside the shop window, linking arms with the old grouch, who was, in fact, grinning devilishly.

 

But even this Saturday ended, with only few incidents, considering that Jensen´s mind was uncooperative most of the time, drifting to images of a certain tall, long-haired business man, no matter how much he tried to stay focused on something else. After he’d messed up the second order, and for one of their most loyal, long-time clients at that, Ellen sent him home with an exasperated sigh, telling him to, “Get some sleep, or I´ll make you!”.  
Lying in bed later that night, sleep wouldn’t come, though. He kept tossing and turning in his bed, dozing a little here and there, but never finding the calmness in his mind to really fall asleep.  
When he could hear the birds outside his window waking up, welcoming the new day already, although it was still mostly dark outside, he gave up on the idea of sleep altogether. He had another early shift at the cafe, anyway; maybe a walk in the brisk morning air would help, if not with the mess inside his head (and heart), then at least with the dark shadows under his eyes.  
He got up, took a shower as quietly as possible, no need to rob anyone else from their sleep, slipped on a hoody against the morning chill, and left the house, just as the sky started to turn fifty shades of pink and purple in the east. At a brisk walk, it would still take almost 45 minutes to get to the cafe; the streets were quiet, as it wasn’t even 5am yet.  
There was a strange longing in his heart, foreign and unknown, laced with a melancholy he hadn’t been able to shake all week. He simply wasn’t used to feeling regret so deeply. Sure, there had been the small mistakes, some wrong choices, words spoken or actions taken that later weighed on his conscience. But those were things one could find forgiveness for with an apology, an act of redemption, or simple adaptation.  
This time, a feeling of hopelessness, of lost chances dominated his thoughts. No matter how hard he tried, `what ifs´ tumbled around in his mind…what if he’d not been so harsh, and so fast with his judgement of Jared Padalecki? What if he’d known about the unknown person behind the smart, smooth image earlier? What if they’d had more time down in Texas, to talk, to get to know each other better? Striding along the still empty streets, he realized that he’d have liked that. A lot. He knew one wasn’t supposed to weep over spoiled milk, but in this case, it felt too fresh, the loss of `what could have been´ too important. Maybe he was delusional anyway, he thought, finally reaching the last block of buildings. Maybe, all of this was a figment of his mind, the possibility of a deeper connection between the two of them. Maybe, the Jared Padalecki he'd created in his mind now was just as fictional as the one he'd made up before.  
He took the short cut through the small park down the block where the cafe was situated. By now, the sun had come up, bright, warm rays slanting through the gaps in between roofs and through the branches of trees whose foliage still showed the light green of spring. The birdsong was in full-on concert mode now, deafening out even the few cars one could hear on a quiet Sunday morning.   
Coming out of the park, he noticed a tall figure striding down the sidewalk, a light coat fluttering around long legs. Jensen´s steps faltered for a moment. No, it couldn’t be. That couldn’t possibly be… but the shoulders, the hair…the way his strides were so self-assured, determined, yet…flowing, smooth like a big cat's. Nope. He was obviously turning crazy now, ‘cause that could not be Jared Padalecki walking down the street, heading right for the cafe where he, Jensen Ackles, employee-who-had-clearly-lost-his-mind, would start a morning shift in…another thirty minutes, the helpful clock mounted on the jewelry shop Jared just passed under told him.  
Yet, he had to check, right? If his eyes just played a trick on him, wishful thinking turning every man over 6´4 into the one guy who’d conquered his thoughts lately, or if he had gone batshit crazy and was delusional now. He closed in on the cafe, watching the other man slowing down, starting to look up and read the signs and numbers on the houses and shops, as if looking for something. He seemed very real, solid, if a little crumpled. His hair looked rather wild, actually, not the usual luscious locks flowing stylishly down to his neck, but windblown, a few strands falling into the man’s eyes. A man that still, even as Jensen came closer, definitely looked like Jared Padalecki.   
Jensen slowed down, too, when the other man came to a stop right in front of Rick's, looking up and down between a small piece of paper in his hand, and the bold, old-fashioned sign above the cafe´s entrance door. It was then that he noticed the movement on the sidewalk, and finally looked Jensen´s way.  
Yes, time could, actually, stand still. Jensen knew that now. First-hand experience and everything.   
Their eyes met, and yes, the thing people talked about in cheesy romantic movies and the kind of book where a shirtless pirate holds a swooning beauty in a red silk dress in his bulging arms, their long hair windswept, their lips plush and open in ecstasy (not that Jensen ha d seen or read any of those, ever) that thing happened to him, right there and then. Bells ringing, birds singing, flower petals raining down from the skies. All that was missing was a whole gospel choir chanting an ecstatic Hallelujah, arms raised and hips swinging.   
Well, that was what, for a split second, whooshed through Jensen´s mind, anyway. Then he realized his feet hadn’t been bothered by the whole life-changing experience, and had brought him right in front of a very real and solid Jared Padalecki, his shy smile and warm eyes welcoming him like a long missed home.  
“Hey,” Jared said, looking a little awkward, embarrassed, almost. “I, uh… I was looking for you.”  
Jensen stared at the piece of paper Padalecki held up to prove his point.  
“Guess I’ve found you,” Padalecki added, his smile still unsure.  
“Yeah,” Jensen answered, ever the eloquent talker when it really counted. “Guess you have.”  
They stared at each other for two or three seconds, Jensen biting his lower lip, unsure what to do, what to say. He was still not entirely sure if this was really happening, or just a very realistic, very nice, delusional episode. Padalecki´s eyes followed the movement, transfixed. A blush suddenly colored his cheeks.  
“Jensen, can - can I kiss you?” Padalecki suddenly rasped, voice hoarse.  
“Oh God, yes!” Jensen burst out before he could stop his stupid mouth. He immediately felt warmth spreading all over his face, but luckily didn’t have the time to be embarrassed, as the next moment, he felt two cold hands on his cheeks, cradling his face, then soft lips, (oh, so perfect, just like in his dreams!) met his own, and right then, Jensen had another revelation:  
Yes, the fireworks did explode around him, or within him, whatever; and if that made him the heroine in a freaking trashy novel, honestly, he couldn’t care less.  
And this time, the gospel choir was definitely there, if only in his head.  
Hallelujah!


	16. Epilogue

“Jensen, calm down. You’ll do great. And stop biting your lip!”  
Jensen licked his tortured lower lip. It felt swollen already, and a hint of iron met his tongue. Freaking fantastic. Now he´d stand in front of all those people, bleeding on his shirt…  
“Jensen!”  
He whipped around at Danneel ´s sharp tone. She shook her head, gripping his shoulders.   
“Stop worrying yourself to pieces!” She dragged her thumb over his puffy lip, a crooked smile on her face, and let her hand rest on his cheek. “And stop staring at me like a deer in the headlights. This is your day, right? Think of it like a - like one of our dancing contests! Just one more Rumba to impress the jury, right? And then it´s all over and done.”  
Jensen shook his head. “No, that’s - it´s - dancing was fun and all, but I never really - this is -”  
He huffed out an angry puff of air at his own ineptitude. Danni rolled her eyes, just a little.  
“What, Jensen? What is this?” She sounded like his second grade teacher, trying to coax the right answer out of him.  
“It´s - it´s important!” When she only kept staring at him with her `come on, Jensen, you can do better´- expression on, he sighed, running his hand through his hair.   
“This is my baby, okay? I’ve been working on this for - for years, and now…” he trailed off, rubbing his neck, embarrassed.  
“Exactly!” Danneel said, beaming at him. “And everyone loves babies, right?!” He couldn´t help but smile back at her toothy grin.  
She took his face into her hands. “Come on, Jen. You’re right, this your baby, and everyone is thrilled to see it. You did it! You had this incredible, crazy idea, and put all this work into it, hours and hours and hours and now - look at where you are!”  
His facial expression didn’t seem to satisfy her. She turned around, grabbing something from her huge, bright yellow purse, and shoved it into his face. It was her issue of Wayward Sons, the very first printed edition of his graphic novel series, already signed by the artist himself (“This will be worth a fortune, Jen, mind my words!”).   
Jensen stared down at the cover. It still amazed him to see his drawings in print. Years of thinking, fantasizing, trying and failing, bound into something tangible and real. He let his fingertips wander over the cover picture, two dark figures running towards the reader over a decrepit bridge, darkness looming around them, an eerie mist pooling around their feet, illuminated by the bluish lights of a car in the background.   
“Jensen.”  
He looked up from the picture, into her smiling eyes.   
“I´m so proud of you.”   
He must have looked surprised at that, because she slapped his arm. “Don´t look so startled! You worked on this for years - and with no one the wiser, and I’m still not sure how I feel about that, by the way! You finished it, and what’s most important, you put yourself out there! You looked for a publisher, and you got what - 13?”  
“16,” Jensen mumbled.  
“Okay, 16 rejections. But -” she held up a finger when Jensen opened his mouth to say something. “You didn’t give up. You carried on, and now this!” She lightly slapped the issue against his chest, “this is a reality. No one can take that from you, right? Even if no one ever buys it, which is simply not possible as it´s brilliant, you did it. You made your dream a reality. Do you even know how few people ever get to do that? Dare to do that?”  
Okay, when she put it like that… Jensen felt a smile tugging at his lips.  
“See?” Danni seemed content now. “This -” another slap with her precious issue. “This is brilliant, you are brilliant, and now go out there and show all those nerds who the mastermind behind Wayward Sons is!”  
“I second that.” A warm voice came from the back door of the room. “Nice speech, Danni!”  
Jensen felt his cheeks flush. 10 months, and seeing Jared still had this effect on him, every freaking time.   
Danni grinned at Jared. “Now it´s your turn, hot shot. I’ve done my work!”  
Winking at them, she slipped through the thick curtain separating the storage room from what Ellen used as the bookstore´s back room.   
Jensen turned back to look at Jared. His boyfriend. Oh man, it still made him giddy to even hear the word in his mind - casually leaned against the doorframe, his dark jeans and shirt accentuating his lean, muscled body in a way that made Jensen feel a little hot. Jared’s shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing the tanned lower arms. Jensen knew exactly how strong they were, how those big, long-fingered hands felt on his biceps, his waist, his…  
Jared´s laugh pulled him back. “I can hear what you’re thinking, Jen.”  
Damn that blush. Jensen went for innocent nonetheless. “You can?”  
Jared sauntered over to him, laying his hands on Jensen´s shoulders, letting them slide down his arms, to his waist… finally resting them on his ass.  
“This,” Jared whispered into his ear, and Jensen shivered. He was pulled against Jared´s body, that glorious, perfect, god-like body! “And this…” The hands wandered up his back, finally cradling his face. Jared’s eyes were warm, a smile crinkling their corners.  
“And this,” he said, bowing down to kiss Jensen´s worried lips.  
Damn. 10 months, and the guy already could read his thoughts like a pro. Somehow, Jensen didn’t even care. Those lips just felt too damn good on his, and the feel of Jared´s silky hair between his fingers, the press of his body against -  
“Boys, its time! Everyone is waiting, and Chris wants to - Oh my God! Is this gonna happen every time we leave you alone for a moment now? Every freaking time?”  
Jensen and Jared glanced into each other’s eyes for a second, gleaming with happiness. Then Jared turned to face an exasperated Mack, and a beaming Misha, who hovered at the door, holding it open for her.  
“Yup. Every freaking time,” he said.


End file.
